When The Angels Came Down To Battery City
by The Dark Passanger
Summary: A My Chemical Romance Fan Fiction based on the "Danger Days" Album. Written for Nanowrimo, released in chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**FOREWORD**

**ONE BAND, ONE ALBUM, ONE JOURNEY**

I would jump right into the story, but I thought I should say a few words to tell you, the reader, about where this is all coming from. In the month of November 2010, I set out on a mission to write a 50,000 word novel for Nanowrimo (check out for more information). Now, I don't care who you are, but 50,000 words is lot of words… and a lot of work. Being a newbie to the experience, I decided to go with something I would find relatively easier to write; a non-original fan fiction. Ah, the fan fiction- the easy way to appeal to the masses… right?

_Maybe…_

I chose to write one about My Chemical Romance, but not about My Chemical Romance at all. It has more to do with their music, and in particular, a little album called _Danger Days: The True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys_. The main inspiration for this story has been the music video for the song _Na na na_, which will probably remain my favourite music video of all time for a very long while. I'd like you to note this as my main inspiration as you proceed through the pages of my hapless little fan fiction. I MUST WARN YOU NOW… There will be many factual issues, problems, discrepancies and such like… and yes, I took a lot of liberties when it came to names, characterization, mise en scene, and well… pretty much everything. A lot of the back story to do with the Killjoys universe was only "published" when I was already half-way though the story.

I tried to stay true to the music videos released… but I was already half way through the writing process when the video for _Sing_ came out which of course showcased the kind of scene that would have any writer in my position running for the exits. But because I figured I must persevere for the sake of the 50,000 word goal. I continued writing and hoped for the best. So this is my best.

Writing wise, it is a very, very verbose piece fitted with as many words as a sentence will allow- and sometimes even more. I know this, and the aim of this exercise and this fan fiction was really just to get to 50,000 words without caring too much about the care and art involved in writing. Just tell a story… quickly… and in a lot of words. I hope you will forgive me the carelessness with which I used my words and constructed my sentences. I can only hope that you will read for the story, and enjoy it for what it is; one person's perspective on the _Danger Days_ journey.

Read on and enjoy… oh, and Killjoys- make some noise!

Shoshana Sachi (The Dark Passenger)

**CHAPTER ONE**

**WELCOME TO THE DANGEROUS DAYS: AN INTRODUCTION TO THE FABULOUS KILLJOYS**

The road stretched out forever; a never ending ticker tape that spread across the barren land. A few shrubs and cacti resided curb side; their sun scorched brown foliage not so much a beacon of hope that something still survived here… but more a reminder of the ever present omniscient spectator and puppeteer: Death. _Ksch… ksch…_ an unseen transistor radio filled up its speakers with static; the only sound for miles. A siren lit up, some tires screamed, and a squad car pulled out from the shadow of a billboard for Better Living brand "Premoistened Kibble"… Delicious puppy chow the whole family can enjoy. It tore up the sand underneath its wheels and raced out onto the road. Someplace, somewhere, someone was in a whole world of trouble.

_Then again, who the hell wasn't, these days…_

The horizon bled into a blur of heat waves rising off the asphalt. It was blistering hot outside; a true testament to the fact that global warming was now into a full and heavy swing- like the drive George Bush Jr delivered when he told his countrymen to do "Everything they can to stop these terrorist killings". Of course, it had been years since that ridiculous interview stained the airwaves and TV screens. Years since Michael Moore added a soundtrack to it and got a good 40% of the population believing that their leader and chief was a no good redneck, and that the war being fought was pointless. Years since people forgot the next day and went about their daily spiral into hell. So many, many, many years ago… and the Middle East was still a blood soaked mess. Now it was 2019, and in the careless outskirts of Nevada, the Middle East was just an unfortunate split-second thought… a bit like suddenly remembering the results from last night's football match… or realizing you forgot to call your mom a week ago. Truth was, there was far too much else to be worrying about anyway.

Of course, worry was meant to be a thing of the past; an idea that the great monopolisers of Better Living tried to sell everyone twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. They took over about ninety nine percent of the market back in 2012, and the world never looked back. Everyone had it figured that the world was going to end in 2012- as if a really bad movie starring John Cusack was equivalent to Moses walking down a mountain with two tablets. They took the prophecy of some ancient race and made it believable fiction- fuelled by computer graphics, animation and bright lights with not-so-bright ideas. Like Scientology… but less entertaining. However, the real truth about the apocalypse wasn't about a total annihilation of planet earth and all its insignificant living things. It was so much simpler… and so much more dangerous. There was no second coming of Christ, no rivers of lava and tsunamis to wipe out entire countries… and the world sure as hell didn't turn into a B grade zombie movie. The God-to-honest truth was that the apocalypse in 2012 had to do with the death of human dignity.

When 2012 came around, people had already been used to selling themselves out every way possible, probable and economical. Artists, musicians, actors and even everyday nobodies all lined up to be judged, be scorned, be loved and humiliated on TV and all over the internet. There was twitter, youtube, facebook and myspace; a method to every madness and every obsession with being seen and being mean. There were no boundaries, no limits, and no more walls… private information was public information. There was competition to be the best cow on the chopping block. People bought their way through brands and filled up like glutting parasites on personality labels they couldn't afford. Before the human race knew it, we had turned into our most primitive counterparts; a living mass of semi-permeable microscopic organisms, all just feeding off each other and spiralling into a vacuous, meaningless space of mass consumption.

Better Living saw the burgeoning market for the new individuality-stripped society and blew every other company out of the water. The people wanted to feel famous, to feel young, to feel like someone else (and like everyone else at the same time), so Better Living delivered. Anti-aging, anti-normalizing, anti-boredom, anti-sadness, anti-loneliness, anti-life… you name it; Better Living had an ad campaign for it. Those soulless madmen set about selling everything from fish-flavoured wafer biscuits to laser guns, televised everything from badly written sitcoms starring the re-generated corpse of Charlie Sheen, to the evening news, and even re-wrote every text book for every grade school, high school and college in the great lands of the United States of America. They taught the people of today how to walk, talk and think about absolutely nothing. Better Living's slogan might as well have been: "Lobotomy is fun"- by the way, they sold lobotomies too… and at two hundred dollars a section (of brain that is), every Hollywood brat was getting one. Ben Affleck was the first to go… surprisingly; he won three Oscars that year.

The thing that Better Living didn't count on, and the thing they hated the most was competition. Ninety nine percent of the country's market was a lot, but one hundred percent would've been much more preferable. Unfortunately for Better Living, there was pirate radio… and where there was pirate radio… there were pirates.

They delighted in the idea of tearing down the walls Better Living had worked so hard to build; reminding the world of its past and dark future. They acted like heart-stopping wakeup calls for a society that was growing stupider everyday… and Better Living had task forces in every state to exterminate these so-called bugs once and for all. Unfortunately though, their methods were just as bad as their fish-flavoured wafers.

_They just weren't very good at all…_

A stereo blasted in the desert, the voice inside it filled with the kind of passion you only hear on old 80's Rock and Roll records. He spoke purposefully, buzzing in and out through waves of static. "Look alive, sunshine! 109 in the sky but the pigs won't quit! You're with me, Dr. Death Defying… I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter; anti-matter for the master plan! The future is bulletproof, the aftermath is secondary. Killjoys! Are you out there?" His voice suddenly sounded urgent, "Killjoys, if you're out there, make some noise! Come alive now, come alive! Giddy-up, giddy-up now, the race to the glue factory ain't over yet!"

The transmission cut out just as Show Pony skated up over the horizon, the small boom box in one hand. He wore a pair of polka dot tights, a tank top that was two sizes too awkward, a tinted motorcycle helmet and knee guards- but only because they looked cool. He made his way everywhere on roller skates that he stole from a raid back in Washington a year ago… and he hadn't taken them off since. "Lady boy!" A voice called out, "Where the hell have you been?"

Show Pony looked up as he approached the safe house and saw Fun Ghoul staring back at him, squinting in the harsh Nevada sunlight. Show Pony suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to throw a punch, but reminded himself of the zen-like lifestyle he had chosen. _Hurt not lest ye be hurt…_ or something.

Ghoul wasn't out looking for a fight of course- not right now anyway, and he waited around for a response before hollering at Show Pony again. Ghoul was dressed in far too many layers to survive more than twenty minutes outside, but he was up for the challenge. He waved Show Pony down, the tights-wearing man reflected in his aviator sunglasses.

"It's about time!" Ghoul said, "You got the batteries for that thing?" He asked, nodding at the stereo. Show Pony didn't reply, he just skated past him and into the safe house without a word. It was always hard to tell if Show Pony was just being an angsty little bitch, or if he was… well, just being Show Pony. The problem stemmed from his lack of speech; he never said anything, not to anyone- in fact, Ghoul had never heard his voice, and yet still insisted daily on asking him questions he never answered. This miscommunication issue was further exacerbated by the fact that Show Pony also never took off his helmet- at least not in front of anyone. He was a living, breathing, blank canvas and the only things that made any noise were his unique clothes.

Fun Ghoul on the other hand was all about communication, in fact there were often times when there was far too much of it coming from his end of the ring. He wore his heart on his sleeve and said whatever came to mind, which was at times far worse than saying nothing at all. Fortunately though, Fun Ghoul made up for all the over sharing and too much information moments with an expert knowledge in all things technological. He knew computers, machines, cars and electronic weaponry way better than he knew the human creature... and when to shut up for that matter. Back in the early two thousand's, he would've been labelled a nerd, but in 2019, he was a star-class asset. In fact, he was exactly the kind of asset Better Living would pay top dollar for, but Ghoul had better things to do and bigger fish to fry. "Screw them," He would say, "What would I do with all that money anyway?"

"Lady boy!" He called out to Show Pony once more as he followed the skate-wearing crusader inside. Show Pony still said nothing. He simply skated over to a cluttered desk where a man with blazing crimson-dyed hair sat, working away. An anti-Ritalin symbol was stitched into the back of his blue leather jacket that hung off the chair he was sitting on, and his motorcycle boots were caked with mud and dried blood. A yellow mask sat on the table in front of him, next to a bright yellow laser gun. His name was Party Poison, and he was the leader of their particular group of hell bent anti-Better Living vigilantes.

"He doesn't go by that anymore!" Poison replied for Show Pony who crossed his arms and leaned against the wall that was lined with photos, graphic-novel style sketches and photocopied pirate magazines. A battered American Flag topped the montage, hanging like a slowly disintegrating hunting trophy.

"What?" Ghoul said as he took off his aviators and raised an eyebrow. He shot a glance at Poison who stayed bent over his sketch pad on the table.

"He's Show Pony now, you dick," Poison said plainly, looking up only to give Ghoul a dirty look.

"What? How come?" Ghoul asked, cocking his head, "Does he have to change his name every God damn week or so? It's screwing with my mind," He looked at Show Pony who casually inspected his racing gloves. "Does he do it to screw with my mind? Because it feels like it…"

"Maybe," Poison said, picking up a marker and uncapping it with his teeth. He scribbled defiantly, using heavy strokes that filled the room with spine-chilling scraping sounds.

"How do you know he changed his name anyway?" Ghoul asked, "He doesn't even talk,"

"He can fucking write, you know," Poison replied, rolling his eyes. As if to illustrate his point, Show Pony picked up a piece of paper and scribbled some words across it with a pen he kept stashed in the side of the black thong he wore over his tights. He wrote extremely diligently, despite having the handicap of a motorcycle helmet on his head, and held up the note for Ghoul and Poison to read.

"Dr. Death Defying roll call."

Poison glanced at Ghoul before turning back to the desk. "Can you get this working again?" Poison nodded at the stereo that buzzed intermittently.

"Sure," Ghoul said, walking towards it and picking it up. He inspected the device; it was as old as they came- which was probably why it played up so much. Unfortunately though, it was the only way they could hear Dr. Deth Defying's pirate transmissions because nothing Better Living sold was pirate-transmission savvy... or Rock and Roll savvy for that matter. The moment an electric guitar riff came on, a Better Living stereo would self destruct. After all, loud music was a gateway to emotion and self expression.

_And that sort of thing will give you wrinkles…_

Ghoul pushed a few buttons and shook it a couple of times, but the buzzing continued. It spat out a couple stray lyrics of an old song; "my mosquito" and then "my libido". Finally, he slammed it down hard onto the desk, making the transmission explode back to life. Show Pony jumped when a fast 90's Grunge track belted from stereo's tiny speakers. Poison just kept scribbling.

"Fixed it," Ghoul announced happily, and if Show Pony wasn't such a stickler for keeping his motorcycle helmet on, Ghoul would've seen the look of disdain on his face. Instead, Ghoul just carried on into his haze of self-unawareness, "I love this song!" He smiled to himself and hummed along, "What's it called… um…" Party Poison looked up suddenly, and turned to Fun Ghoul who wracked his brain for the song title. "Damn, I'm lousy at this… ugh…"

Suddenly, Kobra Kid came running into the room, his blonde hair slicked back so hard it slit a cut through the air as he stormed in. "Smells Like Teen Spirit!" He huffed. "Is that the dedication?" He panted, sweat beads pouring down his face and pooling on a massive sweat stain across the chest of his yellow t-shirt. "Man… it's hot outside," he breathed.

Poison looked to Show Pony seriously, "Dr. Death Defying called out to us just before this song?" He asked. Show Pony nodded, and after a brief pause, he scribbled on the back of the piece of paper he used earlier.

"Think so. Transmission cut,"

"Smells Like Teen Spirit…" Poison mulled it over and quickly turned to scribble it onto the piece of art he was working on. He tore the page out of his sketchpad and stuffed it in Show Pony's hands. It was a hand-drawn but print-quality Dark Horse style comic of a young woman trapped in a Ritalin pill bottle. "Get that to print and say hello to Dr. D for me," Poison instructed Show Pony, "We'll see you when we get back!" Show Pony nodded and skated past Ghoul and Kobra who watched him zip past.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit?" Ghoul repeated, scratching his head, "That's the clue?" He shot a glance to Kobra who shrugged. "Where are we headed?"

"Wake up Jet Star and the kid," Poison replied, sorting out his desk and throwing out some perfectly good, but not-good-enough-for-Poison drawings. He pulled on his jacket, "Sounds like we're hitting up a State High School in sun blister ridden California," He spun around to face the others as he strapped on his mask and stuffed his lazer gun into his leather holster. "And for fuck's sake, Kobra, change or something…"

Kobra nodded, "Yes sir!" He yelled as he ran out, almost breaking down the front door in his excitement.

Poison and Ghoul headed out to the old weather beaten Trans Am that waited outside for them like a loyal old Labrador. Poison smirked and they shared a proud split-second glance. "Brings a tear to your eye doesn't it?" Ghoul smiled.

"Like staring at the star spangled banner," Poison said softly, raising his mask for a moment.

Batman had the Batmobile, Dr. Brown had the DeLorean DMC-12… and _they_ had the world's last remaining Trans Am. She broke down all the time, and after their last escapade, Poison was almost certain he'd be burying her in pieces way before her time. But Ghoul was a genius, and a man to his word… he rebuilt her from the ground up and even re-painted her American flag decal. She may have been covered in mud, scratches and dents, but Poison looked at her with starry eyes like she was still under spotlights in a show room. Their logo; a Black Widow spider, ironically painted in white, decorated the rust damaged hood.

Party Poison took a moment to pat the dust covered bonnet, an uncontrollable grin growing on his face. "Nice work, Ghoul," He nodded, sparing a compliment even though he usually tried to deflate instead of inflate Fun Ghoul's already massive ego. Ghoul nodded back with a smile, saluting Poison.

"I'm a man to my word," Ghoul said, "Plus I owed you,"

Poison grinned to himself, "We're even," He said, his red hair moving wildly in the wind. He swung open the car door that squeaked loudly on its hinges, and reached for the transistor radio on the dashboard. He flicked the on-switch and spoke into it, "Eight Legs are here and ready to party," He said. "Killjoys are checking in!"

He revved the engine and put on his mask as Fun Ghoul strapped himself in for what was going to be another crazy ride. Kobra Kid jogged up towards them, practising a few last minute punches and uppercuts. A man in a blue jacket and a little girl in a racing helmet followed closely behind him, dodging a few stray karate chops. "Killjoys!" Ghoul screamed, hanging out of the passenger side window and punching the air, "Make some noise!"


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UNDECIDED**

In the rolling drought plagued hills of the Californian desert in 2019, the Killjoys were kings as well as criminals. Fortunately for their warped ideals and shocking optimism, the Killjoys saw both labels as equal; after all, to them, fame equalled infamy… and there was no way they'd have one without the other. They were a slave to their cause for freedom; a band of pirates whose sole purpose was to fight against all that Better Living Industries stood for. They saw a world falling to shreds, and figured they'd take a stand one bullet-hole ridden corpse at a time. Blazoned across their crest was the slogan: "Anti-matter for the master plan"; an apt tag-line for the kind of threat they posed to Better Living's plan for consumerist dictatorship.

With Better Living Industries taking over every facet of daily life, it had been nearly impossible for the Killjoys to make a lasting impression on the faceless rulers at the top… until recently. A few months earlier, Better Living had decided to move beyond just taking over everyone's daily consumption patterns (apparently there was only so much fun to be had with subliminal advertising)- now they had moved on to an aggressive take-no-prisoners campaign to claim the hearts and minds of an already personality-drained population. The campaign was called "OZ", which stood for "Operation Zombie"- which is exactly what it sounds like. OZ set out to capture and transform groups of people, usually from different walks of life at a time.

In demented lab scenes, scientists and doctors who had sold their souls to become OZ officers worked to spread the Better Living word like a pandemic. They would run tests and force feed groups of people mind-altering happy pills like the sad little lab rats they were in order to force consumption patterns. It was a revolutionary practise; why produce variety when you can just force everyone to like the same thing?

_Some call it communism, others call market control._

OZ was a clear cut plan with schedules and operations and patterns which made it so much easier to infiltrate. The Killjoys would find out about raids through pirate radio station deejays like Dr. Death Defying, and self-research (which was a lot harder to do without a steady broadband connection)... and set about messing up every single one of them. Out of the fifteen operations carried out by Better Living so far, The Killjoys had shut down eight… which was more than enough to make them top of the Better Living "exterminate list"- which once again, is exactly what it sounds like. It got them so much attention that Better Living even assigned a chief investigator to their case- the very best… and his name was Korse.

Korse was an old fashioned kind of guy who liked his coffee black and his Killjoys writhing in pain from hours of torture. He was the chief sergeant in command of Better Living's special task force: Scarecrow. He was the sheriff in a town that was just getting way too small for the both of them. With an iron fist and a troop of goons dressed in white suits and Dracula masks, Korse could shove the fear of God into _anyone_… but the Killjoys remained unconvinced, unrepentant an unconverted. Before long, Korse saw his nine-to-five job grow into a personal vendetta against the group of colourfully clad mercenaries. As far as derailed minds go, Korse's was positively psychotic… and he was out for blood.

The mere sight of Party Poison was grating to him, and Poison used this to his full advantage. Being a slick master of twisting the knife in and (why the heck not?) pouring some salt on it too, Poison made sure that whenever Korse was foiled, he really felt it. The last time an OZ operation fell through, the Killjoys re-painted Korse's squad car to look like a pale version of their Trans-Am; flying a Party Poison flag on a ten foot pole they shoved right through the roof of the car. It was a little overkill- even for the Killjoys, but the look on Korse's pale face was worth the effort. That day, Korse made a solemn vow that he would snap Party Poison's neck himself when the time came… he could always fill out the misconduct and 'captor delivered dead' forms out later. Bureaucracy was a beautiful thing in 2019.

Party Poison smiled to himself as he flattened the gas pedal of the Trans-Am with his boot, feeling the wind tear through the speeding car and toss through his wild hair. That image of Korse throwing a tantrum beside his destroyed car was one of those Polaroid moments he wished he had a Polaroid camera for.

Fun Ghoul drummed on the dashboard, keeping in time with the Rock and Roll music playing off the boom box. A small pair of hands made a grab for the electronic music device that sat on his lap and Fun Ghoul swatted them away, "This is my jam, kiddo!" He said. "Don't ever interrupt a man mid air-drum solo!"

"Give the kid the radio, Ghoul- it's his after all," Poison said plainly, giving Ghoul one of his trademark 'just-do-as-I-say' looks. With a childish groan, Ghoul picked up the boom box and gave it to Grace who smiled happily.

"Thanks," Grace said, "I'll wait til the end of the song to change the station…"

Fun Ghoul made a face and turned around again, crossing his arms as he stared out at the barren desert road. "See, Ghoul… ain't that nice?" Poison said. Ghoul muttered something that sounded a lot like "Get fucked", but Poison couldn't tell for sure and decided to let it slide. He glanced back at Grace and gave the little 7 year old an adoring smile.

Grace leaned back on Jet Star, the boom box cradled in his arms, waking the man up from a light nap in the back seat. Jet Star was the oldest of the group, and the only one with tangible baggage: his one and only daughter Grace. He ran a hand through his frizzy brown afro and took his aviators off to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced down at Grace and held her for a moment, "How you doin' Grace?" He said quietly, to which Grace replied with a warm smile and a snuggle. Grace didn't know it, but she was the Killjoy's beacon of hope; the last remaining reminder of the kind of beauty their wary world had to offer. She was the innocent thing that remained perfect even after all the terrible things they had seen together on the road. She was a good enough reason to strive towards a better tomorrow; after the end of the Better Living Empire.

Those were the things that Party Poison, Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid saw when they looked at Grace in her gloves, bright coloured jacket and racing helmet. Jet Star, however, couldn't see past those big brown eyes that reminded him so much of his late wife. It had been two years since she was taken away by the Better Living crew for some deranged experiment… or maybe something else, Jet Star hadn't a clue… but that was when his life really fell apart, and that's when he found the Killjoys. While he knew he would never see her again, he wasn't ready to admit it to Grace… how could you ever tell the painful truth to something so innocent?

As the song came to a close, Jet Star leaned forward and toggled the station dial. "Let's see here," He said. _Ksch… ksch…_ static ebbed and flowed as they switched through stations. Suddenly a voice boomed through the speakers;

"Can you dig it? The bikes are in the bike shed today- ain't that a funny thing?" The Ryan Seacrest sounding voice said. "Looks like the state school in…_ ksch… ksch…_ St. Christopher's High School…_ksch…_" Jet Star quickly toggled the knob again, bringing back the transmission for a second. "Having their prom at an earlier date… instead of next week, they're holding the event tonight…" The feed ended.

"Prom moving up a week?" Party Poison said, glancing back to Jet Star through the rear view mirror. "That's gotta be our raid, right?"

"Smells like teen spirit," Jet Star shrugged, a smile on his face. Poison grinned back.

"Oh my god!" Kobra Kid suddenly blurted out, sitting upright as laughter took over his entire being. "I get it!" He announced, "Smells like teen-"

Fun Ghoul picked up a can of Premoistened Kibble off the floor of the car and threw it at Kobra's head. It made a strange metallic sound on impact and Kobra whined in complaint.

"Ow!" He grimaced, rubbing his head.

"Keep it down, jockstrap, why are you advertising your stupidity?" Ghoul smirked as he slumped back into his seat, crossing his arms again.

"Take it easy, Ghoul," Poison said, even though he was finding it hard to stifle his laughter. "Kid's taken enough blows to the head, you know that,"

Fun Ghoul sat up again and turned around to face Kobra who was rubbing his head and pouting. "How many again?" Ghoul asked.

"One hundred and-"

"Nineteen!" Grace finished Kobra's sentence with a grin. Jet Star patted her on the head.

"That's right, Grace, good work," Her father said adoringly.

"It's One hundred and twenty now!" Grace added, and Kobra struggled through finger counting in order to prove the count right.

"Well done, kiddo," Jet Star laughed, hugging his daughter tightly. Grace giggled, adjusting her racing helmet that went askew.

"Daddy?" She said, looking up at Jet Star.

"What is it, kiddo?"

"How many until Kobra Kid's brains get damaged?"

The car erupted with laughter. "He's way ahead of you, sonny!" Fun Ghoul guffawed. Poison shook his head, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. Kobra Kid took a moment to register the joke, and when he finally did, he joined in, perpetuating the laughter even further. With the kind of joy emanating from the Trans-Am at the moment, it would be impossible to know that these hooligans were actually mercenaries heading into battle… But the Killjoys rarely got a laugh; and they weren't about to turn one down no matter how pressing the issues at hand were. After all, their sense of humour was probably the only thing keeping their humanity alive in a world that was being overrun by zombies.

Somewhere else, far over the horizon and away from all the humorous and frankly childish antics of the Killjoys, a darker mood hung in the air. A gust of wind moved through the desert, sending a cloud of dust tumbling through the stark scenery. A Transonic Vulture flapped its wings and settled on a telephone pole, cawing into the silence as its robotic left eye scanned the surroundings like a chameleon's would. Its collar beeped and the tiny speaker on it came to life with a buzz of static. "Nothing to report," a voice from the speaker said, "Come back, VTV261!" The Vulture cawed again, apparently in response, and swung its wings back to take flight… if only it wasn't for that damn laser shot to the head, maybe VTV261 would've made it back to base in time for The Price Is Right.

The bird shrieked and fell to the ground, its head obliterated in the impressive neon blast. When its carcass rolled over, smoking at the neck, a pair of combat boot clad feet walked towards it slowly. The person loomed over it, kicking the bird slightly. It was just a mere tap, but it was enough. "Subject under fire- destroy, destroy!" A robotic voice boomed from it.

Just in time, the person looming over it took a quick step back before the carcass exploded into flames. "Fuck," A woman's voice muttered. She bent down to pick up the bird's collar and saw the Better Living logo blazoned across the back. Angrily, she threw it to the ground and stamped on it.

She stuffed her laser gun back into her leather holster, her robotic hand clenching and relaxing idly as she stepped out onto the open road to scan the horizon. As she stared out into the sky, the sunlight hit her and the side of her face glistened; three metallic bolts fixed to two USB cables ran from the side of her head. "UV levels high, seek shelter," A robotic voice spoke. The woman looked down and saw the panel on her belt lighting up as words scrolled across it: "UV levels high…"

"This is not my day," She muttered to herself. Shelter would've been great right about now, and Bloodshot could've told you that, but there was absolutely none in sight.

"UV levels high, seek shelter," The robotic voice repeated, as if a constant nag would help the situation.

"I know, you piece of shit," She said angrily, glaring down at her belt. She did a once over of her surroundings again, her exasperation starting to show. She placed a finger on the panel's screen, bringing up a menu filled with symbols, "Engage News Station. News A-go-go," She said.

"News station engaged," the robotic voice replied as a radio station faded into earshot. The Ryan Seacrest sounding voice boomed.

"I've got confirmation- confirmation is power, ain't that right? St. Christopher's high school is gunna be partying tonight!" He said, sounding way too excited for a grown man. Bloodshot sighed.

"UV levels high, systems running on low-action," The robotic voice interrupted suddenly, and the radio shut off. With a groan, Bloodshot kicked the Transonic Vulture carcass high into the air like a feather covered football. "Do not exert, do not exert- UV levels high," the robotic voice chimed in, sounding- of all things- worried.

"I'll do what I want!" Bloodshot replied angrily, followed by another groan to illustrate her frustration. Suddenly, a siren howled in the distance and Bloodshot spun around.

Emerging from the heat waves that rose off the asphalt was a squad car with the Better Living smiley face logo printed on its bonnet. Bloodshot's expression dropped and with wide eyes, she hurried off down the road as fast as she could. "Do not exert, do not exert- UV levels high," The robotic voice repeated, and Bloodshot closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out all distraction… and trying hard to forget the fact that her android body was shutting down.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**IT MUST BE PROM SEASON IN BATTERY CITY**

Party Poison could've sworn he had passed through Section B5 just a month ago, and it wasn't nearly as busy and overwhelming as it was now. Section B5 was a small residential town in the North West wing of Battery City, boasting tropical weather (with less rain), scenic lookouts, the world's oldest remaining MAC store and the best Doughnut Sandwiches in the world. It was a haven for the all American family life to thrive, and the only Section with the most High Schools; Section B5 was currently running a grand total of 9 schools- and by the looks of it, they were looking to make it an even 10. The Trans-Am pulled past a construction site for a brand new High School just for "gifted students" as the banner outside suggested.

"Section B5, boys," Party poison said, squinting in the sunlight a little, "Probably the most overrun with teenagers town you'll ever find this side of the Milky Way," He sighed, seeing a couple of kids running across the streets with CVC's in hand (Concentrated Vitamin Cones; like an ice cream, but _apparently_ better for you).

"Smells like teen spirit," Jet Star chimed in, suddenly feeling glad that Grace was still a few years behind the switch into confused and hormone driven adolescence; the bridge way between blissful ignorance and the knowledge of good and evil (and lust for the latter).

"God, they're everywhere," Poison grimaced, and Fun Ghoul noticed him shrinking in his seat a little. His gloved hands tightened around the wheel nervously as they braked, allowing a group of older teenage girls in white to trot across the pedestrian crossing. They held multi coloured plastic bags, and chatted loudly.

"They're not so bad," Kobra Kid said, grinning as he hung out his open window and waved at the girls who giggled and waved back. When they spotted Grace next to him, they let out a litany of "awws", making the little girl blush and pull back into Jet Star's arms.

"I dunno," Poison replied, putting a hand to his neck that suddenly felt uncomfortable. He hit the gas pedal and jolted the Trans-Am forward towards their destination, zooming through the streets of Downtown Section B5. "Teenagers just scare the living shit out of me."

The further they drove into Section B5, the more it felt like they were entering into another world; a place that had abandoned all reality and all independent thought. Everywhere, people were dressed in either white or light pastel coloured clothes without print. In fact, all the architecture around them was white, black or pastel… and at every five mile mark or so, there was a Better Living billboard. It seemed strange to the boys that Better Living would pick a place like this to run their OZ program, but like all self appointed gods, Better Living's ways were always mysterious.

As far as the eye could see, the people of Section B5 were already Better Living machines, consuming, believing and pledging allegiance to this week's brand of household detergent. Section B5 was fast becoming the most demented town this side of Battery City, and by the looks of things, they were spreading out pretty quick too. In the one month that Poison had been away from the pretty paved streets filled with eerie smiling faces, Section B5 had grown quite a fair few yards, spreading like a disease across the barren Californian planes.

Party Poison was feeling more and more uncomfortable as he drove on; feeling a strange choking feeling well up inside his throat. He kept swatting away the collar of his motorcycle jacket and Fun Ghoul noticed a fair few times that their leader appeared to be buckling under the pressure, but chose- for once- to say nothing. The reason behind Party Poison's allergic reaction to Section B5 town was a secret to everyone else in the car but himself, and he seemed destined to keep it that way. After all, Poison wasn't exactly the sharing kind of guy, and even though he was the leader of the pack, the rest of the Killjoys didn't know too much about him other than the bare essentials.

The other Killjoys knew Party Poison grew up on the road, had a real enthusiasm when it came to explosives, and used to work for a record store until Better Living threw out more than half their stock in exchange for more 'Better Living approved' tunes. They knew that he was compassionate and driven too, obsessed with bringing down Better Living and freeing all the people they've held captive. No matter how bleak present day 2019 seemed, Party Poison believed the damage done was reversible… and he was going to go to the ends of the earth to find the antidote. The other things they knew about Party Poison, they learned in passing; like his affinity for the colour yellow, or his love for comic books and freehand sketching… and his intimidating skill at poker and pool. Everything else were details they didn't really have the time to sit down and talk about, and plus, they knew that if they tried, he would just leave the room or change the subject anyway.

Truth was, there was a lot of important things the Killjoys didn't know about Party Poison; details that were essential to unravel the rest of the puzzle… problem was, there was a few things Party Poison didn't quite _know_ himself. He grew up on the road; that was true… he spent his early years travelling from city to city in an old camper van with his parents who believed in three things: Love, Anarchy and Rock and Roll. They were children of the eighties and nineties, and fed Party Poison their ideals for freedom, for government, and for peace on earth. Their ideas were romantic, and the perfect diet of dreams for a young child with no one place to call home. They thought they could change the world on words alone, and hated guns and violence. More often than he'd like to admit, Party Poison would wonder what mommy and daddy would think of their little gunslinger now.

His parents were his entire world, until of course, everything suddenly halted to a dead end stop. He was 13 when they were stopped at a roadblock on the outskirts of a town he couldn't remember anymore. All he really remembered from those moments was seeing armed police officers and strange soldiers in all-white suits marching out of vans. Their faces were shielded by masks that he would later learn were copies of the Better Living logo; that haunting black and white smiley face. He remembered seeing construction crew and a large sign that read: "Building a better tomorrow. Welcome to the future: Battery City". Thinking back now, Poison drew the conclusion that it was the slow beginnings of Battery City that his parents had driven to- probably on yet another charming but stupid protest against a faceless government.

_They just had no idea…_

Then he woke up one day, far away and different… and alone. The rest of his memories between the ages of 13 and 15 were a mess of snippets of overheard conversations and images that felt counterfeit. He remembered seeing his parents being taken away by the soldiers in white, and he remembered seeing his mother screaming as she reached out a hand for him. He remembered not being able to move, and when he looked up, he saw that Better Living logo face staring back down at him. Firm hands held him still, and though he tried as hard as he could, he was stationary. The stranger lifted a gas mask over his face and forced it on him. A flash of white followed.

After that incident, Party Poison recalled living in a camp for awhile; a shell of what Battery City was going to become, and undergoing some experiments that he was unfortunately awake for sometimes. Small images skated across his mind sometimes; not often, but often enough to leave an impact… a pair of forceps, a bundle of wires, heart monitors… and more of those Better Living faces. Then one day, two years after his abduction, and the disappearance of his parents, Party Poison woke up on a curb outside Battery City with no name and no recollection. In fact, he was the only member of the Killjoys who had a pseudonym because he couldn't actually remember his real name. Not that he told the others of course, he just told them they shouldn't use real names for security reasons.

He wished he had a better story for how his name came to be, but real life is just a whole lot of boring sometimes. Although it's arguable that Party Poison's vision of what boring meant may vary from the standard definition. Fun Ghoul got his name from two very simple concepts that had to do with his whimsical personality; the fact that he loved Halloween, horrors and all things macabre, and the fact that he loved… well… having fun. He used the codename whilst working as a hacker from his mom's basement, and it was his go-to name after Party Poison rejected his initial name idea: "Super Sex Bandit". Kobra Kid's pseudonym came from a rather heart stopping act he used to perform back in the day. From the early age of 10, he earned a living by working with his adoptive Thai parents who just happened to be expert snake wrestlers. By the time he was 19, he was well on his way to local superstardom, and he was even featured in an old edition of the Lonely Planet as one of the must-sees to see when in Thailand; "The amazing Kobra Kid". Jet Star's name was something his daughter Grace came up with for him… and Grace was… well, Grace's actual name. Jet Star refused to give his daughter a pseudonym and the rest of the guys thought it was fair.

_You can't bring a kid up as someone else…_

Party Poison's name however, came from a very different source of inspiration. When he woke up on that curb side and looked upwards, he was outside a comic book store in some nowhere town in the middle of Los Angeles… and in the window was a brand new low selling comic book about a forgettable superhero named Party Poison. The name stuck in his empty head, drained of a whole two years worth of living- it was just an easy label to put on and pretend it was his all along. For awhile it was just a kick-ass nick name for a born loser who worked nine to five days at the record store, but when Party Poison started piecing together little fragments from his past with what Better Living was doing with the world around him, it became a declaration of war. Man against The Man; Party Poison against Better Living. The stage was set and the rest was history.

With all the things Party Poison's mind had filtered right out of its system, he somehow retained quite a few painful details of a sordid past. For instance: the reason why Party Poison didn't like the idea of cruising down the main city strip filled with teenagers. While Fun Ghoul dismissed it as a reaction to the volatile nature of such hormonally charged beings, Poison's real problem ran a lot deeper. Because he travelled around so much with his parents when he was younger, he school hopped too, which meant he never quite fit in… which of course meant he was always the candidate for heavy beatings from senior bullies. It might be a hard pill to swallow now; but dear old Party Poison, who knew his way around a laser gun better than the people who built the damned things, used to be the weedy kid who spent most of his school days locked in lockers.

This creature that appeared to live for chaos and rode out his days with a devil may care attitude was built of softer stuff way back in the day. While things had obviously changed, traumatic flashbacks from those tragic days still lingered... and they were exacerbated by the sight of a grinning teenager. Too bad there were just _so_ many of them in this God forsaken town… every other face was a catalyst for a Vietnam style flashback featuring fades to white and Wilhelm screams.

"There it is," Fun Ghoul announced, leaning forward in his seat, his hand leaning on the dashboard. "Check out this mother fucking masterpiece…" He scoffed.

Kobra Kid gaped, peering out the window with a stunned expression, "Wow…"

The Trans-Am slowed down to a stop in front of St. Christopher's High School; a pure white building that looked like Lego-inspired structure. There were no curves to the building, and no art; there were just box shapes on top of box shapes with large glass windows so each class room looked like soul sucking fish bowls. Around the structure was a high white brick wall, topped off with barbed wire. The building was about 2 parts High School and 2 parts maximum security prison; the only thing missing were watch towers and guards with AK47s. The sky above started to fade into gray as the sun began to set.

_Lights down and draw the curtains… the show's about to start…_

"This is just creepy," Jet Star noted, clutching Grace's shoulder as they walked in through the front gate. Grace looked up to the archway where a sign above them read: _Hard work is the key to freedom_. "This is…" Jet Star began.

"So wrong," Party Poison put in, "This isn't a school… it's a concentration camp,"

"Well then, soldiers, I guess we have some Nazis to kill," Fun Ghoul said, raising his American Flag print bandana over his nose and mouth.

"Can I just say something?" Jet Star asked hesitantly. Poison turned his head to look back at the older man who was putting on his bright blue bike helmet, "I have a bad feeling about this,"

"You and me both," Poison replied, adjusting the yellow half-mask he was wearing as he turned back to face the monstrous structure that loomed before them. "Death sure as hell never looked so clean and pretty," He smirked.

"You sure this is the one?" Kobra Kid asked, putting on his yellow bike helmet and checking the laser gun in his makeshift holster constructed out of guitar straps.

"Sure as hell Kobra," Poison said, "I mean look around you… its prom night and there's not a kid in sight."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**RAISE YOUR GLASSES! HERE'S TO THE KING AND THE HOMECOMING QUEEN**

Halogen lights casted dreary shadows across the plain concrete floors. The hallway in St. Christopher's High School was like a scene from The Shinning; as eerie as a ghost story featuring demented children, and as creepy as Jack Nicholson's facial expressions could get. Fun Ghoul trailed a hand along the metallic blue lockers, making a strange hollow sound resonate along the otherwise vacant hallway.

He felt a shiver run down his spine, and even though he wanted to stay silent, Fun Ghoul's duty propelled him towards his next actions. With a heavy sigh, he pulled out his modified cell phone that now doubled as a four way walkie talkie to the rest of his team. It was one of the many electronic marvels Fun Ghoul had souped up and cooked up in the time he had between missions. A walkie talkie disguised as a cell phone might not seem like that much of a technological triumph, but it served them well whenever they were raided and suspected to be spies or "terrorists"; violent mannered spanners thrown into the Better Living works. Captors never thought to strip them of their cell phones when they were held hostage during a mission-gone-wrong, and the devices helped them keep an open communication to the rest of the team who were on the outside and on the lookout for them.

"Party Poison?" Fun Ghoul spoke into his cell phone, his thumb on the hash key. "Come in Party Poison, ground floor's like a showing for M. Night Shyamalan's back catalogue. No hunted for the hunters and no cattle heads for the chopping block,"

_Ksch… _the cell phone buzzed back, the screen lighting up with a florescent yellow glow. "Rodger all that Fun Ghoul," Party Poison's voice replied through the mobile device, "Where'd you learn to be so poetic?" A little smirk followed that made Fun Ghoul smile.

"I learn from the best, big kitty, why can't you purr? Answer the Goddamned question…" Fun Ghoul replied with a laugh.

_Ksch…_ "No- uh, no- nothing yet… Just one long winding road to ruin up here… chemistry labs and everything," Poison replied.

In the floor just above Fun Ghoul, Party Poison walked through a quiet chemistry lab. He paused to pick up a vial from an abandoned experiment, inspecting it. The bright green liquid stared back but gave no answer, and with raised eyebrows and a shrug, he put it back down on the extinguished Bunsen burner. "This place just gives me the creeps…" He said, looking around at the all white chemistry lab. "Feels like I'm in some kind of dollhouse constructed from my nightmares,"

_Ksch…_ "Something about High Schools, I guess," a response from Jet Star came belting through the speaker of Poison's modified cell phone. His screen lit up blue as Jet Star's voice continued; "It's been decades… but it feels like centuries,"

Elsewhere in the school compound, Jet Star moved through the theatre, winding through the seats, and looking up at the scaffolding and light set ups above him. He made a glance towards Grace who danced around on the set; spinning with her arms held out like a little aerodynamic top. "Nothing here by the way," He added, before waving at Grace, "Come back here, Grace!" He called out. The little 7 year old complied, but only after kicking over a cardboard construction painted to look like a castle. It flopped to the ground loudly, echoing through the room. It made Jet Star cower for a moment as the room settled back into silence.

"Poppa," Grace murmured apologetically, herlittle gloved hands held to his lips.

Jet Star gestured for her to come over to him, a stern expression on his face. "Might be compromised," Jet Star buzzed into his cell phone; "Kobra Kid, do you copy? I'm gunna head in your direction," He said, clutching Grace's shoulder as he led his kid out of the theatre.

"I'm here…" Kobra Kid's voice came in, lighting up Jet Star's cell phone with a bright red. _Ksch…_ "A lot of… a lot of stars here… lots of them," He muttered, sounding strangely mesmerized and horrified at the same time. Jet Star stopped for a moment to shake the device in his hand before speaking into it again.

"Are you okay, Kobra?" Jet Star asked.

_Ksch…_

Huddled in a corner of the school gym, Kobra Kid sat with his sticker covered cell phone to one ear and his eyes wide as he stared up at the over-decorated ceiling. There were sparkly stars strung up everywhere, made out of sparkle covered cardboard. In the centre of the star covered ceiling, a mirror ball spun idly. Its light refracted off the stars around it, shining brightly above an empty dance floor. Kobra Kid shivered a little, rocking back and forth on the ground.

"Just… so many stars…"

_Ksch…_

"On our way, Kobra Kid, hold up," Jet Star replied.

_Ksch…_

"I'm on my way too… hold your breath and count to five like we practised," Fun Ghoul said, sounding a little too amused on the other end.

With a little spring in his step, Fun Ghoul picked up the pace and ran down the empty hallway towards the gym. He grinned as his steps echoed loudly through the seemingly empty school, looking forward to dialing up the torture on Kobra Kid who appeared to be at his most vulnerable. Suddenly, Fun Ghoul stopped in his tracks.

"What the?" He murmured to himself and took a couple of steps backwards, his eyes fixated on one of the lockers along the long and winding hallway. A Better Living black smiley logo stared back at him… grinning away like a malevolent villain. Fun Ghoul stepped towards it and placed a hand on the logo that appeared to be painted onto the locker. His fingers stained with black, smudging the face so it looked like it was melting.

A look of realization crossed his face, and at that moment, Fun Ghoul knew he was standing at the doorway to the answer in this God forsaken maze. He went for the handle but it didn't budge. There was a combination on the door. _Ksch…_ he lifted the cell phone closer to his lips.

"Uh guys?" He spoke, alerting the others who stopped what they were doing… well, all except Kobra Kid who continued to rock back and forth in a corner. "I think I found it…"

Moments later, Jet Star and Party Poison were standing behind Fun Ghoul, all locked in a defiant gaze upon the locker; as if staring at it with cold expressions would will it open. Grace fidgeted and stood on his tip toes for a better look. "What's the number?" Jet Star asked.

"I dunno, if I knew do you think we'd all still be standing here?" Fun Ghoul snapped back in a hushed whisper.

"I wasn't talking to you, I was just thinking out loud," Jet Star answered, sounding irritated.

"Why are you thinking out loud, you don't think you've been loud enough already?" Fun Ghoul replied, "Gotta attract more attention from the OZ doctors on the other side?"

"How do you even know there are OZ doctors on the other side? For all we know this is just a decoy…" Jet Star replied, the tension in his voice growing.

"And for all we know, there could be OZ doctors inside, peeling brain matter off sixteen year old girls in fluffy pink dresses," Fun Ghoul snarled, eyes still on the locker.

Party Poison let their angst-ridden exchange wash over him as he stared at the locker and its black combination lock. _How to get in without a noise to raise the sirens in this place? _All the sound around him emptied into a hollow drone as he felt the locker staring back into his tortured soul. Deep down inside, something in him shifted, and a litany of unwelcomed flashbacks flashed back.

_Something about high schools, I guess…_

Deep inside him, the old Party Poison whose name was something else (that he still couldn't recall) broke the surface and whimpered at the sight. "How did I escape?" Poison murmured to himself, cocking his head as he studied the nerd trap before him. As he wandered along the edge between the answer and the question, he realized it was the edge between his present and a past he had been running from for years. "How…" Even though it scared him, Poison took the plunge and closed his eyes to think back. "How…"

The year two thousand and two… Party Poison skated down a school hallway on his board, on his innocent little way to Geography when a fat redheaded kid named Sangster and his brunette underlings snatched him right off his wheels.

_Hey new kid… how about a little tour?_

Before he knew it, he was in a little space, cramped between books and a gym bag. He hyperventilated in the shadows, peering outside the small holes at the kids who pretended not to hear him pounding on the metal. Someone stopped, eventually. She had dirty blonde hair and freckles.

_I'm sorry, I don't know what the combination is!_

_ Neither do I…_

_ Just try this…_

"Shut up you two!" Party Poison huffed, ending the battle between Jet Star and Fun Ghoul immediately as he reeled back into present day reality. Even Grace ceased his fidgeting and stood upright in silence, his big brown eyes locked on Party Poison. "Whether or not there are OZ doctors on the other side… _peeling_ off brain matter… is a useless and extremely futile argument to be having right now at this point in time, can we agree on that?" The others nodded. They were wide-eyed and feeling sheepish. "But what we can agree on is that this is the first lead we have since we've gotten here…" The others nodded again. "Now…" He leaned forward, pushing the other two out of the way so that there was more space. He put his ear to the door and closed his eyes to take in a steady breath. Slowly and hesitantly, he put his hand on the combination lock and twisted.

"What're you doing?" Fun Ghoul asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me… I _know_ lockers," Party Poison replied, sounding a little bitter.

_Click._

"There's one…" Poison said, smiling a little. "Three more to go…"

"Poppa?" Grace piped up, and Jet Star looked down.

"What is it, kiddo?"

Grace adjusted her helmet, tugging down on its straps, "Where's Kobra Kid?"

"Fun Ghoul?" Kobra Kid spoke into his cell phone that lit up with green and died again, "Fun Ghoul?" He shook it and it just rattled in his hand, "If you can hear this, I think my walkie talkie cell phone thing just broke," He said. He looked around him, his breathing shallow as he was met with the eerie ghost prom.

Finally, he got up and with a clichéd gulp, walked towards the stage. His shoes squeaked on the gym floor as he studied his surroundings.

"Jet Star?" He called out, quietly- just in case, as he drew the laser gun from his leather studded holster. He stopped by the snack table and saw the neatly stacked Better Living brand vacuum packed peanut butter and jelly cubes. It had been awhile since Kobra Kid had happened upon such a luxurious food item, and it was tempting enough for him to reach a hand out and take one.

Suddenly, soft footsteps sounded from an unseen source, causing ripples in the punch bowl filled with an indiscriminate pink liquid. Kobra Kid spun around quickly, hearing the footsteps continue for a moment and then disappear.

"Hello?"

He lifted up his laser and put a peanut butter and jelly cube in his mouth, chewing with an intense look on his face as he paced down the quiet dance floor. Footsteps sounded again and he spun around, pointing his gun ahead. He let out a shaky breath.

"Who's there?" He said, his eyes shifting from one end of the room to the other. There was still no one in sight.

Kobra Kid waited for a moment before he finally decided that he was probably just hearing things… he also decided he was now a little thirsty. He poured himself a glass of punch and continued to study the vacant room, still getting used to the idea of a million glittery paper stars hanging above him. He adjusted the collar of his biker jacket a little uncomfortably and glanced upwards at the mirror ball.

"Huh," He murmured and drank from his glass, slurping loudly. Kobra Kid didn't have any deeply buried high school nightmares tucked away inside his psyche, and even though Fun Ghoul attributed this to the idea that Kobra Kid didn't have a psyche at all, the explanation was a lot less complicated: Kobra Kid was homeschooled. The explanation as to why he appeared to be horrified at the very sight of sparkly, glittery objects however, evaded everyone… including Kobra Kid. _They just scared the shit out of him…_

_Hisssssss…_ a low, quiet sound met his ears and he stopped drinking immediately. The constant hiss filled the air. _Hisssssssss…_ A shiver ran down Kobra Kid's spine. He cocked his laser gun and turned his head slowly. Careful footsteps sounded one after the other; as if taunting him with never ending suspense to a punch line he couldn't foresee.

Finally, Kobra Kid decided he had enough and spun around quickly, coming face to face to his shadowy assailant who moved towards him at an alarming speed. The attacker knocked the laser right out of his hand, and in a panic, Kobra Kid had pulled the trigger. A blast of white light shot the disco ball right off its string and it crashed to the floor loudly. The bang almost completely masked Kobra Kid's scream as he himself hit the floor, wrestling his black clad attacker who pinned him down.

He shut his eyes and shoved, groaning when a knee dug into his ribs.

_Hisssss…_

Suddenly, there was an electronic beeping noise and Kobra Kid opened his eyes to stare his attacker in the eye. A computerized voice spoke in the tense filled silence between them; "Caution, do not exert! Sustenance levels low."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**SORRY KID, BUT TIMES ARE HARD AND BLOOD AIN'T CHEAP**

_Click._

Party Poison swung the locker door open and it whined loudly on its hinges. "Funny," He said, "I remember these being a whole lot smaller,"

Before him was a lengthy hole that stretched on into an unimaginable depth, and worst still, it was pitch black. It appeared to be cut right out of the concrete; jagged edges, broken pipes and severed wires framed the enclave like warnings to all who dared enter. Grace's eyes were as wide as they could go, and she stared out into the abyss in horror.

"Kobra Kid? Come in, Kobra Kid!" Fun Ghoul said into his cell phone, shaking it as the red light on the screen flickered on and off. The feedback howled in Jet Star's and Party Poison's phones in their pockets. "Nothing," Fun Ghoul finally said, pocketing his cell phone too. "Must've flicked it off or something…"

"Well, no time to wait for him now," Party Poison said, still mesmerized by the chasm before him. With a swift flick of his wrist, he pulled out a bright red flare and snapped it on. A spark fizzled from its tip, hissing wildly and he flung it into the darkness. They watched as the light rose and fell through the immensely long chute. It flew, and flew and flew, until finally gravity pulled it down to the earth again. It fell a yard or so away, and it appeared as though the tunnel kept going.

"Are you kidding me?" Fun Ghoul scoffed. "Alright, this is definitely not a trick or something," He said.

"Okay then, Killjoys," Party Poison said, flicking on another flare, "Guess it's time to go down the rabbit hole," He stepped inside, the chipped and cracked concrete crunching under his boot.

"Poppa…" Grace whined a little, tugging on Jet Star's jacket.

"It's okay," Jet Star said as he guided Grace inside, following Fun Ghoul who looked far too excited about all this. "Daddy's here," Jet Star cooed to his child. Grace, like many other 7 year olds her age, didn't quite like the darkness at all, but found solace in the fact that her father was nearby, and that her father seemed to be pretty good at scaring away bad guys and monsters so far. They journeyed down about 10 meters before Grace took a split second glance backwards towards the door that was getting smaller and smaller behind them. She wondered if Kobra Kid was going to come racing up to the door any minute now…

Bloodshot was feeling dizzy; her fingers- both human and android, went in and out of focus before her. Blinking her eyes sleepily, she managed to key in a code on a small panel embedded on her wrist. The screen on her belt lit up, the scrolling message across it changing to read: "Systems charged". The robotic voice chimed in; "Systems charged at thirty percent… operations are normal."

She huffed, wiping her lips of the crimson liquid that stained it. She licked her long eye teeth that were also covered in the stuff. The taste was foreign; far too warm and fresh and real… and so unlike the bottled concoctions she was forced to thrive on. It wasn't good or bad; just strange. Bloodshot felt unsure about what she had done, and for a moment, guilt sneaked into her mind. A hot flush of emotion invaded her being and she hung her head forward, leaning a hand on the table before her as she sighed heavily, trying to regain her composure.

"What have I done?" She murmured to herself as she stared into the punchbowl.

"W-well, I think you bit me…" A voice from behind her spoke.

Kobra Kid sat upright behind her, a hand to his aching neck that sported a bleeding wound. He winced in pain. Bloodshot turned around suddenly and gasped, jumping back a little. "What's going on?" She hissed, bearing her fangs.

"H-hey now, d-don't bite me again!" Kobra Kid said, gritting his teeth in pain as he held up a hand to her. "N-none of that… please…"

"You're supposed to be dead…" Bloodshot huffed, unable to believe her robotically enhanced vision. "What the hell are you?"

"You bit me!" Kobra Kid said angrily, before cringing in pain from the wound on his neck again. Streams of blood pooled across his chest, staining his yellow singlet underneath his red racing jacket. "What the hell are you?"

Bloodshot cocked her head, examining the mess of a man before her as she blinked her piercing white-blue eyes in disbelief. "A V.A.M.P drone," She said.

"What?"

"You're supposed to be dead… how are you not dead?" Bloodshot demanded, her mind reeling at the impossibility that the man she had just attacked, bitten into and drank blood from was still alive and talking to her.

Kobra Kid finally opened his eyes and blinked up at her pathetically. With a shaky sigh, he pulled his hand away from his neck and saw how blood soaked his gloves were. "Do you have fangs?" He breathed.

Bloodshot stared back, dumbfounded. "Yes…" she replied.

"I bet you have venom on those, right?" Kobra Kid asked, pressing his hand to his neck again, wincing in pain a little.

"Why do you think I'm so confused as to how your heart is still beating?" She said.

"Well, I'm impervi- impervyo- impervee… um, venom has no effect on me," He explained. Kobra Kid was, believe it or not, telling the truth. After years of living in some backwater village in Thailand and working as an expert snack wrestler, Kobra Kid had been bitten by many a snake of many a length, colour and species. He had collected a whopping number of snake bite incidents; totalling at four hundred and fifty six, which was three hundred and thirty six times less than the number of times he'd suffered a blow to the head. After all those times Kobra Kid had deadly venom course through his veins, and after all those times he'd spent hours shivering in hospital beds, and yes- after all those times doctors pumped him full of anti-venom, Kobra Kid had worked up one hell of an immunity. In fact, his immunity was so strong that it gave him the ability to perform one of the act's most controversial and famous tricks ever: a wrestle battle between Kobra Kid and fifteen king cobras. "It's true," Kobra Kid said, grimacing a little as he applied more pressure to his neck wound, "You can bite me all you want, but I won't die… but uh- I'd rather you didn't…"

"What are you?" Bloodshot said quietly, cocking her head as she narrowed her eyes at Kobra Kid who panted as he struggled to stay sitting upright on the ground before her.

"I'm a… uh…" Kobra Kid suddenly struggled with words and lucidity. "I'm… passing… out," He mumbled before falling backwards onto the back of his head.

_One hundred and twenty one…_

He was out cold, and Bloodshot watched him, bewildered. "Um… mister…" She stepped towards him, inspecting him as he lay unconscious. His chest rose and fell with the tempo of his gentle breathing. Bloodshot placed a hand to her belt panel and typed on a couple of the symbols that glowed under the pressure of her fingers. A few windows popped up and the robotic voice kicked into gear again.

"Subject scan initiating…" It spoke as Bloodshot stepped towards Kobra Kid and placed a hand above his face. "Scan initiating…" The robotic voice repeated. A few beeps followed. "Scan complete," The voice said. "Subject is Kobra Kid, Killjoy, twenty eight,"

"Killjoy?" Bloodshot gasped, standing up. Her panel came to life, flashing a violent shade of red. She looked down and saw big bold letters of a word that reminded her of where she came from. The robotic voice sprang back into life, sounding almost furious as it belted out its battle cry;

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

After a fair trek into the darkness with only a flare to guide them, the Killjoys- one Killjoy short- happened upon a second door. "Deep in the belly of the beast now," Fun Ghoul whispered as quietly as his naturally boisterous voice allowed. "I guess it's now or never," He said and put a hand on the solid iron door.

"Where the hell is Kobra Kid?" Jet Star murmured, looking back to the small doorway of light in the distance. "Didn't he get the call?"

"Maybe he's hurt," Grace said, a gloved hand to her lips as she stared up at his father. "Can we go look for him?"

"Too late now, kiddo," Party Poison replied, his hand fastening around the laser gun in his holster. "And he'll be fine, that kid's got an immunity to snake venom and extreme head trauma the likes of which I've never seen," He shrugged, "Besides, like Fun Ghoul said… it's now or never,"

Fun Ghoul drew his laser gun and cocked it, releasing its safety. With a little lop sided grin, he held the handle and twisted it. "Killjoys," He said, rearing to go and bracing himself at the same time, "Set phasers to fun,"

The door swung open. It whined loudly on its iron hinges, as if it had been there for centuries- even though it was a very new instalment. Party Poison was the first to charge in, his red hair making him look like a high speed fire ball out of hell. Fun Ghoul and Jet Star followed, Grace keeping as close as she could to herfather; one hand on her helmet and another on her father's jacket tail.

All around them, high school students in over laced and over primped prom outfits were being worked on by OZ doctors. The doctors were dressed all in white, and had the Better Living logo blazoned on the chests of their white coats. They looked up from their forceps, syringes, wires and microchip implants, staring quizzically at the group of armed mercenaries who had just charged in.

The boys took a moment to survey the damage, and the sight made Jet Star's stomach churn. He held Grace close to him, shielding her eyes. "Look away Grace- just like we practised…" There were kids strapped onto gurneys and electro shock chairs with wires fused right into their brains through gut wrenching wounds. They looked like delicate massacred figurines from Pleasantville; asleep and looking astoundingly peaceful for the way their heads were being pulled apart. A few computer monitors flickered through Better Living advertorials, wires from the screens plugged into several teenage girls and boys.

"This is sick," Fun Ghoul murmured, his eyes darting around the room from over the top of his star spangled bandana.

"Take it easy, docs," Party Poison said, a rather ironic wild and devious grin growing on his lips. "We're here to see the wizard,"

The OZ doctors bolted, crashing out of their stunned state and into a haze of total panic. They stormed through the room, knocking over machines, heart monitors and carts- sending medical and not-very-medical equipment everywhere. Party Poison took aim as Fun Ghoul and Jet Star began shooting. Poison loved this part; this moment of total chaos where the fear was so thick he could smell it. In this moment that lasted minutes but felt like hours, he; Party Poison: Killjoy… was in total control. The feeling would've been enough to send a sane man howling to the mad house.

_Thank God for those few loose screws rattling around up there…_

Lasers flew through the air, blasting a few OZ doctors who went down with dramatic screams. They scrambled for the exit, but the boys were planted right in front of it- and they weren't up for budging anytime soon. Fun Ghoul spotted a doctor attempting to use his forceps as a weapon, and quickly dealt with him. A few kicks and a punch later, the doctor was flat on the floor, writhing about in pain. "Take that, you little mother fucker," Fun Ghoul snarled, pointing his laser gun right at the doctor's head. "One instant antidote to evil… coming up…"

_BANG!_

The doctor's skull obliterated into an explosion of red and Fun Ghoul smirked. He had forgotten how much difference a close range shot makes.

Grace covered her eyes and faced away as she always did during a gunfight. She tried to pretend the screams were something else, anything else- maybe they forged together into some kind of song… a nursery rhyme. _Anything else would be just fine…_ that's when she saw a couple of doctors hauling out hefty laser rifles.

"Poppa! Poppa!"

Jet Star turned around in a panic and saw the OZ doctors running straight for them, laser rifles aimed at the ready. "God sakes! Poison!" He screamed.

Party Poison turned just in time and started shooting, dodging the counter fire. He jumped backwards, barely missing a laser beam that would've burrowed a nice old tunnel through his left eye socket; much like the one he had just travelled through to get here. With arms flailing, he crashed into a tray load of syringes, sending them flying through the air. "Ow… shit!" He grimaced, seeing that one had accidentally jammed its way right into his left shoulder. With a painful groan, he yanked out the needle, huffing through deep breaths.

"Poison!" Jet Star's voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see a rifle-armed OZ doctor running straight for him. Swiftly, Poison raised his gun and shot a hole through his chest. The OZ doctor faltered, stumbled backwards and crashed to the ground miserably.

Party Poison tried to move off the ground but his shoulder sent out a wave of nerve splitting pain throughout his whole body. "Oh! Fuck!" He screamed.

Meanwhile, Fun Ghoul had somehow managed to become backed into a wall, four OZ doctors staring back at him with a variety of painful looking medical paraphernalia in tow. "Geez guys," Fun Ghoul grimaced, lowering his bandana as he took in a few shallow breaths. He looked to the ground behind them where his laser gun was laying quite a fair way out of reach. "Give me a little space, will ya?" He said just as a doctor started up his bone saw. With a sharp breath, Fun Ghoul raised his right leg and kicked the doctor right in the chest, knocking all air out of his lungs and crushing his ribs inwards.

The other doctors pounced at him, a pair of metallic pliers just inches away from his eyeball and the abject destruction it would've surely caused if Fun Ghoul wasn't strong enough to hold them back. He shoved them backwards and the doctors fell flat on their backs. He went for the gun.

Jet Star punched an OZ doctor to the ground, and the Frankenstein wannabe dropped his laser rifle. He raised his laser gun and pointed it to the man's head, staring down at the crazed Better Living moulded soldier and feeling a surge of anger course through his veins. This man; this shell of a human being who spent his days perpetuating the evil dictatorship of Better Living incorporated could've just as easily been one of the men who took his wife away. Her name whispered itself into his consciousness, calling him seductively back into a vision of the past.

_Rosebud…_

Rosebud, otherwise known as Roselyn, stared back at Jet Star with horror in her bright green eyes. She fought and struggled against her captors who were dressed in white; a contrast to the bright red dress she wore.

_Rosebud…_

She wanted to scream; he could see it in her face, and in the way her mouth gaped open as she stretched out for her baby who lay between them. Grace cowered; she was only 5 and she had learned the art of fear so well.

Jet Star struggled as hard as he could, the white gloved hands around his shoulders and arms holding him back as he screamed for the love of his life. He cried.

"Jet Star!" Fun Ghoul screamed, pulling Jet Star out of his waking dream. Jet Star swivelled in his stance and saw an OZ doctor with an emergency axe running right for him. "Fucking duck!" Fun Ghoul shouted. Jet Star swung backwards. Fun Ghoul fired.

In the white flash that ensued, Jet Star swore he saw an image of his wife smiling back at him.

_Rosebud…_


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**ESCAPE FROM TEENAGE BOOT CAMP, FEATURING: THE LOVELY BLOODSHOT**

"You alright, Jet Star?" Fun Ghoul asked hesitantly as he assessed a rip in his jacket. "Christ," He muttered to himself, "This is my favourite jacket too…"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Jet Star muttered, staring down at the recently deceased OZ doctor who lay at his feet; a laser burn hole in his chest. "I just…" he trailed off. Grace went to him and hugged him tightly, whimpering a little into Jet Star's jeans.

"You hesitated there," Party Poison said, flinching a little as he sat upright on the ground, a hand on his shoulder.

"I know what I did," Jet Star snapped, "I just… It's been a hard road," He sighed, "I'm just getting tired I guess- I'm sorry," He said.

Party Poison nodded, gazing down at the ground for a moment. "I know man, it's okay." This was public knowledge; it had been a long and hard road for all of them… and as they ran together through the trenches of a sometimes not so silent war, all of them came up bruised and cut. But now, as he looked at Jet Star; a broken man who was now showing telling signs of fatigue, he realized that while they all came with baggage, Jet Star's wounds were a whole lot fresher. He didn't have the luxury of nearly a decade to get over it like Poison did… in fact, it was barely two years. Plus, it couldn't have been easy carrying around a reminder with him wherever he went. Party Poison ran a hand through his red hair and looked up at Grace who was clinging to her father like she was never letting go. He saw vulnerability in Grace that he remembered feeling; that horrible feeling of losing everything- all control vanishing in the pull of a trigger. But he knew he couldn't pretend for a second that he knew what Jet Star was feeling…

_Must be tough holding the world together when you're falling apart…_

With a sigh, the Killjoy leader sighed and looked around to survey the carnage. OZ doctors lay sprawled out everywhere around the makeshift laboratory. It was silent now, except for a few stray beeps from the heart monitors strapped to still sleeping teenagers in pretty prom dresses and tuxedos. "How's your shoulder?" Fun Ghoul asked, holding out a hand towards him. Party Poison took it and let his friend pull him up.

"I'll live," Party Poison said. "I'd like to find out what's coursing through my veins though," He huffed, "Better just be some B12 or something…"

Fun Ghoul smirked, "Probably," He said, "We'll get you to a doctor when we leave here- a real one…" He scoffed, making Poison laugh.

"We did good, Killjoys," Poison said, finally standing upright without Fun Ghoul's help. "Now let's set these chickens free and get out of here before the authorities turn up,"

"Sounds good," Jet Star nodded, smiling weakly. "Think they'll make it?" He asked, looking around the room at the unconscious teenage kids.

"Some of them will," Party Poison said.

"The ones without gaping holes in their head… and you know, missing brain parts…" Fun Ghoul said in his usual tasteless way. Party Poison smirked and patted him on the shoulder, resisting the obvious urge to smack him upside the head.

"Let's get moving Killjoys…" Poison said. "And someone please try and buzz Kobra Kid again…"

Even if Kobra Kid's cell phone walkie talkie device was still in working action, he wouldn't have heard them buzzing in. Unfortunately for all the Killjoys concerned- especially Kobra Kid, he was currently very unconscious, and being dragged by the feet along the school hallway. He mumbled something in his sleep, and Bloodshot stopped for a moment to make sure he was still out cold. "Kobra Kid?" She said softly and waited for a reply.

Kobra Kid continued to barrel roll through a litany of strange venom-induced dreams and so Bloodshot shrugged it off and continued to drag him. She stared down at her hostage; a poor innocent looking soul with far too many bright colours on, and wondered for a moment how something so sickeningly childlike could end up on the Better Living exterminate list. Still, she was intrigued as to how his body was coping with the impact of her venomous bite.

"Hey!" A voice broke her train of thought and she turned around swiftly, dropping Kobra Kid's feet and reaching for her laser pistols. She drew both of them and pointed them straight for her would-be assailants who had their lesser (but equally deadly) laser guns pointed at her. She recognized Party Poison's trademark yellow half mask and crimson hair immediately. "Step away from the Killjoy!" He snarled.

"Oh my god, is he bleeding? Why is he bleeding!" Fun Ghoul blurted, catching a glimpse of Kobra Kid's blood stained neck. "He better not be dead, you little bitch," He snarled.

"He's fine!" Bloodshot said, "He's still breathing!" At that point, Kobra Kid muttered something that sounded like 'mommy I want that snakey'. Jet Star raised an eyebrow at Fun Ghoul. "I don't mean any harm…" Bloodshot said; side glancing to make sure an escape route was nearby just in case things went pear shaped.

"Yeah you're definitely displaying peaceful intentions right now," Jet Star scoffed.

"Sorry lady, but from where we come from, friends don't point pistol- holy crap are those AK99 Automatic Laser Pistols?" Fun Ghoul blurted.

"Ghoul!" Party Poison spat.

"Right- um… wait…" Fun Ghoul struggled to regain his composure. "Wait…" He began, gulping down, "You're a V.A.M.P soldier aren't you?"

"A what?" Jet Star said.

"Yes, I am," Bloodshot replied. "Look, I'll get rid of my guns, see…" She very slowly lowered them to the ground, placing them in front of her feet before kicking them towards Party Poison, Fun Ghoul, Jet Star and Grace- the little 7 year old watching her in bewildered awe. "They're yours if you want them," She said, "I know who you are, and I know you need to get out of here before Scarecrow arrives,"

"What's your point, sugar?" Party Poison said, "Because if you have one you should be getting to it pretty quickly," He cocked his laser gun.

"I know these guys, I used to work for them- and I know how they operate… I can get you out of here and on the road safely…" Bloodshot reasoned, hoping to catch a break in what was turning out to be a really bad day.

"Did you just say 'used to'?" Fun Ghoul said.

"So you're just wearing that Better Living logo and X-brand for fun?" Jet Star smirked, tightening his grip on his blue laser gun. "Think up a better story, darlin',"

"I'm telling you the truth!" Bloodshot spat. She glanced at the X-brand on her shoulder; a black X in a box- a symbol of a life she used to live and a symbol she hated. Being reminded of it left a bitter taste in her mouth and she snarled, flashing her pearly white fangs. Grace cowered behind Jet Star. "Trust me, if those came off easy, I would've burned them awhile ago…" She said, "Here…" She put a hand to her neck, making Fun Ghoul and Jet Star straighten their aim. "Easy…" She muttered, and pulled out a wire that was plugged into the side of her neck. She pushed a couple of buttons on the touch screen panel of her belt and a few electronic beeps sounded. The pain of the ordeal showed in her expression as she pulled at the wire, snapping it. It made an electrical buzz and she looked up at Fun Ghoul to throw it at him. "Here," She huffed.

A robotic voice chimed in for effect; "Warning! Support systems 1: Cardio- disengaged…"

Bloodshot locked eyes with Fun Ghoul and his expression dropped. "I can tell you know enough about electronics to know I'm telling the truth… that little piece of metal and electrical tape is my life support… I have one hour to survive without it until mortality starts setting in and I power down forever," She said. "It's yours to keep until I get you out of here safely."

Party Poison and Jet Star looked over at Fun Ghoul who inspected the item in his hand. He looked up at them, "She- she's telling the truth," He said, unable to find the words to speak for once in his life. "I'm going to have to re-solder these wires if they're going to work again," He said, mesmerized by the tiny piece he held in his hand and the power it had over this mysterious woman's life.

"Then I guess we're going to have to hurry," Bloodshot said, gritting her teeth.

"Fine," Party Poison said, just as the sounds of sirens filled the air. He stuffed his laser gun back into his holster and bent down to pick up Bloodshot's pistols. He shoved one into the back of his pants and tossed the other at her. "You lead the way, sunshine,"

"Hmm," Kobra Kid smirked in his sleep, "Irony…"

Jet Star leapt forward and picked Kobra Kid up, Fun Ghoul helping him haul the incapacitated Killjoy towards the nearest exit. Party Poison fell into step behind Bloodshot who glanced back at the boys every so often as she led them towards the exit. Grace jogged up beside Party Poison, gasping to keep up.

"P-P-Poison," She stammered. The Killjoy turned and quickly scooped him up into his arms.

"Shh, kiddo, you're alright," He cooed, cradling Grace close as they picked up the pace. The wail of the sirens grew closer, swelling through the hollow corridors of the school. Their footsteps rang a little louder.

A voice boomed through a loud hailer; "Empty the building now, empty the building now! We have this place surrounded!"

"Come on!" Bloodshot shouted as she skidded down the end of the hallway towards a fire escape. She kicked open the door that flew open with a loud bang. An alarm rang; so high pitched it made the boys flinch. "Quick!" Bloodshot called out over the piercing noise.

Before they knew it, the Killjoys plus one android abomination were running through the vacant football field, trying hard to keep their panic under control. Party Poison caught up with Bloodshot and they ran alongside each other, panting. "Do you have a flare?" She asked him, looking straight ahead.

"Flare? Yeah!" He replied and pulled out a red stick from his jacket.

"We need a decoy," She said, taking the flare, "Where'd you park?"

"Out front," He replied.

"Good, bet they wouldn't expect that," She plugged the flare into the barrel of her one remaining pistol and fired it into the air. A bright red light shot out of the pistol and ended in a firework type explosion a clear thirty feet in the air. "Fuck it!" She breathed, seeing that the pistol didn't survive the ordeal. The barrel crumbled and a black smoke flowed out of it. She tossed it to the ground.

"Plan?" Party Poison said.

"The others keep going- and get them to wait in the back alley behind the café up ahead… we'll circuit back for the car and pick them up," She said.

"Alright," Party poison replied, "Good plan- you come programmed with it?"

Bloodshot smirked. "I wish, it's just practise," She said, "You won't believe how expensive software is these days,"

Party Poison laughed.

Scarecrow officers stormed through St. Christopher's High School. "Go, go, go!" A chant of deep voices filled the air as they filed in. They were in riot gear armour; extra thick bulletproof vests, glass shields and laser rifles in tow. A few android German Shepherds barked, their voices echoing through the hallway. Their robotic eyes worked like red laser pointers that scanned the hall for any sign of the escaped anarchists.

"Move up! Move up!" The team's leader called out as he ran in from the back of the group. "Where are they?" He murmured to himself, "Fuck, where are they…"

"Sir!" An officer called out suddenly. The leader ran up and saw that the officer was standing by the locker door entrance to the OZ lab.

"Christ…" The leader huffed, looking despondent. He lowered his rifle.

"Looks like they're long gone sir," The officer said, standing way too straight to be completely human. "I sent a canine operative in sir, it's a mess…"

An officer walked out of the hole in the wall, holding a blonde kid in a tuxedo who gaped at the infirmary before him. "There's a few more of them in there," The second officer said, shaking the boy who rattled around like a rag doll. "What do we do with them?"

"Leave them outside- let them go home… shit," The leader said, "Can't have this- Christ!" He groaned, "We have to shut it down before those punk anti-Better Living media whores get a hold of this!" He said. "You have any idea? Any God damned idea how long it took to keep all this under hush hush and key?" He shouted, grabbing a hold of the first officer's face and shaking him angrily.

"Um…" The officer stammered when he stopped, though his cheeks were still being squished by a very strong hand, "A long time sir?"

"A fucking long time!" The leader said and let the officer go. He stumbled backwards and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. "Get this pile of shit out of my face," He ordered the second officer who hurriedly left with the boy. "The rest of you- make sure the kids are out of here and that the whole lab is covered up- not a fucking trace!" He ordered. His face was red now, and a vein pulsed on his forehead. "Who the hell did this…"

"I-I have a theory sir…" The officer mumbled. The leader looked around at his snivelling soldier.

"Well then?" He demanded.

The officer quickly went to the locker door and slammed it shut. The leader's expression dropped and finally, the red drained out of his face. The Better Living logo had been artfully disfigured with a yellow mask painted over top.

"God damn it…" he said quietly.

"It's the Killjoys sir," The officer said, straightening his helmet. "They were here…"

Party Poison followed Bloodshot out to the car quietly, glancing behind him at the entrance to the school that was blocked up by empty Scarecrow vehicles. "Shh…" Bloodshot hushed.

"Did I say anything?" Party Poison snapped in a hushed voice, exasperated.

"Shh," She said again and he cleared his throat in irritation. When he saw the Trans-Am, he lit up and suddenly felt a sense of hope surge back into his system. He reached a gloved hand out to the driver side car door and opened it as slowly and silently as he could.

Above them, a VTV Vulture sat on a street lamp, staring down at them as it squawked idly. Its chameleon like robotic eye zeroed in on the pair under it as they looked around again, edging closer and closer to the car. Party Poison reached a gloved hand out to the driver side car door and opened it as slowly and silently as he could. "Squawk!"

In an office far, far, away- all the way at Better Living Headquarters in the heart of Battery City; miles and miles, and miles away, a hand stroked a static filled monitor that screened exactly what the VTV Vulture was spying on. The monitor was just one of twenty that sat stacked amidst some radio transmission equipment, all surveying other places in synchrony; brought live to the viewer through the eyes of many a robotic desert creature.

Party Poison made one last glance back at the school as he slipped into the driver's seat and started up the car. The circuit boards across the set up came alive suddenly; flashing LED lights like a God awful Christmas tree.

"Sir! Come in, Come in! This is Chief Dallas Smart of the Scarecrow patrol team! Do you copy? Over!" A voice belted through the radio device next to the screen. The hand picked it up.

"I copy you, Chief Dallas Smart of the Scarecrow Patrol Team," A low, smarmy voice replied into the radio. "Over…" It was Korse. He was all head- not a single follicle of hair marked the top of his head, giving him an otherworldly alien presence. He sat staring at the screen that lit up his garishly pale face with a blue hue, a truly psychotic smile growing on his thin lips. Hs black eyes bored a hole through the monitor before him.

"Korse sir, we have reason to believe that the Killjoys were behind the… problems… we had here at the OZ lab at St. Christopher's High School in Section B5… I thought you'd like to know," The radio buzzed; _Ksch… _"Over!"

"Good to know, Chief Dallas Smart of the Scarecrow Patrol Team…" Korse replied, sounding oddly calm given the circumstance. The tone in his voice was as eerie as Hannibal Lecter in a ski mask. "Thank you for your delightful information," He said. "Over…"

"Uh… that's alright sir, we'll clean up here and give you a proper report when we get back to Battery City," Chief Dallas said. "Is there anything else we can do for you? Over."

Korse scoffed to himself, blinking his tired eyes that were framed by red circles from far too many sleepless weeks. He smoothed down the ruffles on his ruffled collar and lifted the radio to his lips again, "Nothing at all, Chief Dallas Smart of the Scarecrow Patrol Team," He said, watching closely as Party Poison looked right up at the VTV Vulture for a moment's glance. "Nothing at all… over,"

"If you say so sir, see you soon," Chief Dallas said. "Over and out," _Ksch…_

Korse sat the radio back down and ran his bony fingers over his lips in pensive thought. "My, my, my Poison… haven't you been a busy little bee, shaking up hives and doing your little dance," He spoke lyrically, "Don't you know, little bee, that you can't keep stinging if you want to fly free…" He laughed a little to himself, the LED lights now casting a green glow on his face. Korse looked positively homicidal in the light of his surveillance equipment; and it suited him all too well. "I see you have a new friend too… but the others didn't know…" He said, watching as Bloodshot took one last survey of the area. "My pretty little princess… the lovely Bloodshot," He sighed. "Very well, Poison…" He said quietly, his smooth voice dripping with malicious intent so thick it could've grabbed the old fashioned laser pistol right out of his holster.

He watched as Poison pulled the Trans-Am out onto the open road and sped away. Korse grinned to himself then, and sat back in his leather chair that creaked under his shifting weight. With a slow intake of breath, he uttered two words that would've sounded plain as day coming from anyone else… but for some reason, it felt like a death threat when he fell from his lips;

"Keep… running…"


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**CAN'T SEE STRAIGHT FOR ALL THE FLASHBACKS IN MY EYES**

Yellow, orange and bright red sparks flew like a million sparklers lighting up at once. Fun Ghoul worked away meticulously on the broken Cardio Support System Chip or CSSC device that was clamped in place on the work bench before him. While a blow torch in Fun Ghoul's hands would usually sound like a terrible idea… or the start of a sadistic and potentially bloody prank aimed at Kobra Kid, when Fun Ghoul was working, he was all business. He lifted his helmet visor and looked down at his handy work with furrowed eyebrows. "It's not quite right," He murmured to himself.

_This from the guy who thinks Cheetos in Ice Cream is a good idea…_

"Fun Ghoul!" Party Poison yelled to him from the door of his haphazard looking garage. "This is no damn time to be a perfectionist," He growled. Beside him, huddled against the door frame, Bloodshot sputtered through sharp gasps of air.

"Warning, warning!" Her robotics reminded her, the panel on her belt lighting up with red and green flashing lights. "Cardio systems shutting down…" The panel powered down abruptly- cutting the voice off mid nagging sentence.

"Ugh!" Bloodshot groaned, still struggling for air as she held a hand to her chest. Just under the palm of her hand, her half mechanical heart was slowly winding down to an indefinite end.

"Shit!" Fun Ghoul leapt into action and ran up towards her. Worriedly, he quickly reconnected the frayed wires on her person. "Look away!" He warned loudly and without a pause to make sure she was actually looking away, he lowered his visor and lit up the blow torch. The blue and yellow flame exploded out of the nozzle. Sparks flew.

"Hnnnggh!" Bloodshot groaned, thankfully looking away with her eyes pinned shut as the heat of the blowtorch scorched the skin on her neck. "Fuck!" She spat when he switched the blowtorch off. A red mark on her flesh grew all along the side of her neck, and her polyester suit melted at the collar. Fragments of the congealed outfit dripped across the Better Living insignia on her chest.

"Plug it in!" Fun Ghoul yelled, though he didn't have to. Bloodshot got up and shot off a few feet away only to crumble to her knees again, screaming loudly and shrilly as she plugged in her Cardio Support System.

The panel on her belt sprang back to life; "Systems up and running, systems up and running…" The voice chimed in. Bloodshot heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. She heaved forward suddenly and choked out a mouthful of blood. "System rebooting." The voice said.

Bloodshot panted, drawing quick and shallow breaths as she felt her heart beat soar in the cavity of her aching chest. She looked up, squinting in the fading sunlight.

"UV levels at fifty percent… seek shade."

"Fuck off!" She screamed, grabbing her head in agony.

A pair of boots walked up to stand beside her and a hand rested on her shoulder. A moment's silence passed and Bloodshot steadied her breaths a little. Even though all her training and programmed instincts told her to shrug off the hand on her shoulder, she left it there, reminding herself that it wasn't everyday someone reached out and touched an android soldier.

_This was one of them rare occasions…_

"Thank you for helping us," Party Poison said, sounding honestly thankful for her efforts. "Are you gunna be okay?"

"Yeah…" Bloodshot said, nodding weakly. Suddenly, she coughed up another mouthful of blood, hunching over miserably. "I will be…" She muttered.

Party Poison looked over to the garage and saw Fun Ghoul walking inside again, checking the hole on the shoulder of his jacket as if it was their biggest problem to fix right now. Party Poison smirked, shaking his head. "So… what're you running away from?" He asked, turning his attention back to Bloodshot.

"Excuse me?" She asked, looking up at him in disbelief.

"What're you running away from?" He repeated, "Everyone who's not trapped inside the Better Living mindset and working on the opposition is running away from something… and usually it's not as plain to see as it is with you," He explained. "You say you used to work for them… what happened?"

Bloodshot stared out at the empty desert, her eyes following a hawk as it glided along on a hot breeze far off. "A lot of things," She said, "Your friend's right, I am a V.A.M.P Drone… Otherwise known as a soldier for the Vampire Android Military Program," She sighed, "It's a very new program, only into its second phase… that's why all this stuff keeps jamming up and finding new ways to bug the hell out of me," She huffed, gesturing to the gadgetry that consumed her once human body. "It was a sick idea dreamt up by some sick doctor at Better Living… anything to build the world's strongest and most resilient arm forces I guess…" She said, "I suppose its irony or something; seems to be the feeling that stings me everyday anyway… irony. They built an empire that preached peace and then they built an army to reinforce it,"

Party Poison smirked.

"What?" She said, looking up at him.

"Nothing," He replied, "Just nice to know that someone out here thinks a lot like me…"

She smiled, and turned back to stare into the horizon where the sun was setting.

"UV levels at 30%..."

"So you're part vampire, part android?" Party Poison asked, "How the hell does that work?"

"Badly," Bloodshot scoffed, "I need blood and working electronics to survive… like I said, some sick doctor came up with some sick plan…" She said. "Maybe they though it would be more efficient if soldiers can just feed off the bodies of their enemies."

"So that explains the bite marks on Kobra Kid?" Party Poison asked.

Bloodshot looked up at him with an apologetic expression; "I'm sorry, I don't usually resort to attacking humans… it had just been awhile since I fed and my body was reverting back into primal codes… the system takes over when my body's weak," She explained.

"Well, thankfully that kid's going to be alright," Party Poison said, drawing in a deep breath of air as he stared out to the pink and blue sky before them.

"You guys are fighting the good fight, Poison," Bloodshot said, "I hope you get what you're looking for,"

Her words lingered in the air between them for what felt like forever, and Party Poison turned solemn. As he looked out to a fading sky on yet another day spent dodging death, he wondered if he was every, truly, going to get what he was looking for. He wondered if the benchmark for freedom, peace, and paradise for free will that he had set was too awfully high… and he wondered what a dream like that was going for these days.

Party Poison took off his yellow mask and held it in his dirt covered gloves for a moment; staring down at it with a sad, dejected look on his face. At that moment, he was holding his identity in his hands; everything about Party Poison came down to this cardboard half mask painted on with poster paint. After all, wasn't who he was just a pretty illusion for another faceless victim on the road to God knows where? He turned around and saw the safe house, Fun Ghoul's garage... and the dust covered Trans-Am; his material possessions… his legacy in a handful of broken down objects.

"They hand picked me out of some place in Section B5," Bloodshot's voice broke through his train of thought, and he turned his attention back to her. "I was out there looking for answers when my system went into overdrive mode," She said, "But that's all I really know… I don't know when, or how… but a long time ago I was just a normal person living a normal life… and then I woke up Bloodshot," Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped away the blood on her lips hastily, before quickly drying her eyes on the back of her hand. "I have no idea who I really am…" she said.

"We have that in common," Party Poison replied. He pulled out her remaining pistol and handed it back to her. She took it hesitantly, looking up at him, confused. "But at least we know who we need to be," He said.

She stared down at the gun for a moment, her mind clicking over the words that he had just spoken. When she looked up, he was already walking back to the safe house, his red hair blowing in the wind that picked up as night set in on the arid planes. She looked up into the sky and gazed upon Venus who was making a slow but graceful appearance in the darkening blue. A small smile curled upon Bloodshot's bloodstained lips.

"UV levels now zero percent."


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**THE STEPFORD WIVES AIN'T GOT NOTHING ON US**

The V.A.M.P or Vampire Android Military Program started a mere two years ago in 2017. The world was quite a different place then, with Better Living only recently taking it's stranglehold on society to the next level of liquefying every other goods and services provider. In order to throw the country's leader a bone, they offered to use their technological advances in bioengineering to create an army of super soldiers in order to keep their great nation safe from all the wars they've been starting. Of course, Better Living only said they were working for king and country, but they were really just building themselves reinforcements for when the inevitable war between consumer and sole marketer began. While Better Living knew they would win over millions of hearts, minds and souls in the buying and selling game of life, they were always certain there would be the less desirable rebels who would challenge the system in the name of freewill. And when those rebels rose up, Better Living had their Scarecrow squads and their OZ doctors and their military trained officers who paced the streets of Battery City like it was a war zone.

_Talk about "caveat emptor"…_

The V.A.M.P soldiers, or drones as they were more often referred to, were a little half baked. The idea was to harness human bodies and genetically modify them into monsters that would be both terrifying to opposing armies, as well as so adept at surviving and operating at night that they would be able to end wars in the course of a single blood soaked night. The V.A.M.P bots themselves, however, were filled with technical issues that needed constant retraining and reworking. Phase one was a complete blow out when the Better Living scientists just started creating real life vampires. Unfortunately, making their senses so sensitive meant that their photosensitivity rendered them useless in day light conditions… and so, phase one V.A.M.P drones often perished in the midday sun- which wasn't exactly a the sort of thing armies were looking for these days.

Phase two was a little more of a success, as scientists used the technology they had at their disposable to its full potential. The part vampire part android beings didn't just have bionic limbs to help with travelling speeds or jumping anymore, they now had full functioning robotics that kept their biologically unique bodies functioning just the way they needed to be. Instead of wigging out and then melting out in the hot sun, the V.A.M.P drones were now equipped with robotic sensory systems that regulated the sun's damage to their systems by making their bodies create more melatonin levels, while warning them about the level of sunlight they were encountering. The technology also helped with warning the soldiers when their blood sustenance supplies were running low, and would take over the body in order to hunt down and receive the necessary nourishment. Of course there would be little worry about lack of blood out on the battlefield, but just to be sure, V.A.M.P drones were also supplied with Go Go B+ Capsules; little blood vials that could sustain each soldier for at least a week. Another great thing about having so much technology built into these creatures was that there were less biological parts that needed sustenance. The rest just relied on the magic of electricity and great engineering.

Even so, and Bloodshot could tell you this herself, phase two was barely the perfect solution. She found her dependence on her very separate robotic self grating; right down to the annoying, nagging reminders that came in a voice that wasn't her own… and yet arrogantly seemed to think it knew everything about her body. Better Living however, saw a different problem completely. The technology was so expensive that only twenty V.A.M.P drones were ever created; ten more were in waiting, pending the approval of the President of the United States of America. In a recent rebel attack on Better Living headquarters, two drones were killed, and a month later, one went M.I.A. So that left seventeen drones.

Luckily for Bloodshot and unfortunately for Better Living, a circuit in her half robotic brain shorted during the attack, and it returned some of her conscious and cognitive abilities. In layman's terms; it gave her a mind of her own… one that wasn't a complete slave to Better Living and the scientists who created her. After the attack, Bloodshot spent a month at the headquarters reeling at all the millions of questions about who or what she was, and how Better Living was running the show from their ivory tower in the middle of Battery City. She began to wonder about her past- and if she had one, and with a little digging, it led her to a possible address in Section B5… though, that was all the folder she found really said about her. There were no names, no house numbers, no street names… not even an age. Biologically, Bloodshot looked about 21, but she wasn't entirely sure if the technology had just frozen her that way.

Running low on blood was, and she knew this, the least of her problems. Without her weekly system check and defragmenting, her robotics had been running into more problems than your standard Windows platform. For now though, Bloodshot took solace in the fact that she had a group of mercenaries around her that had evaded Better Living and the law for a good long while; one of which just happened to be a technological genius. Who knew that she would find her sanctuary with the very same people she had been hunting for as long as she had been programmed to do track, overpower and destroy.

Almost an hour away in Section B5, half-robotic German Shepherds paced the football field of St. Christopher's High School, their noses glued to the ground. Voices called out from all around as torch lights beamed through the darkness. A Better Living search team was on the grounds, and they were hoping to find at least a shred of evidence that would help them find those darned meddling Killjoys. Fifty or so operatives scavenged and combed through the field, and nothing had turned up except for a few stray footprints in the dirt that were near impossible to trace.

A pair of old leather steel capped boots clunked through the grass slowly, methodically, and purposefully. "Get!" A voice with a tone to match the pace of the boots said, as a white gloved hand grabbed the collar of a poor hapless search dog and yanked it out of the way. It yelped, landing awkwardly on its back. It ran away whimpering and cowering, its tail between its legs. "Well, what do we have here?" The voice boomed.

Korse grinned to himself and with his white gloved hand, he reached down and picked up a broken special issue AK99 automatic laser pistol from amidst the blades of grass. He cradled it delicately in his palms with a kind of strange, gentle candour that looked eerie coming from such a potentially violent sociopath…

_Well, maybe extremely violent sociopath was more on the money…_

He was dressed in a ruffled collared shirt that was ruffled at the cuffs as well. Over the shirt, he had on a gold trimmed jade coloured vest with intricate embroidery. Despite the time he was in, and what he stood for… and even the technological knowledge Korse stored up in his head, he seemed to enjoy dressing up like he was still stuck in the middle ages. Perhaps he just enjoyed the irony. As Fun Ghoul put it, he was just a walking, talking, annoying slice of mind fuck. He looked like a very evil version of Prince in the moonlight that cast a disturbing glow upon his pale white skin.

_The anti-Prince, if you will…_

Behind him, a couple of his white clad goons in expensive looking suits and Dracula masks stood at the ready, their white laser guns drawn. Their masks were always snarling; garish white teeth for all to see, and red painted plastic to mimic blood seemingly drooled down their chins just for the added abject quality. With those masks on, it was nearly impossible to tell if there was anything human underneath. But then again, Korse didn't really like his humans… human.

"Well, what do we have here?" He murmured to himself, pivoting the gun in his hands as he looked upon it like it was an ancient fossil.

"Sir!" An officer said from behind him, raising his night vision goggles and exposing his wide shocked eyes. "That's a special issue AK99 automatic laser pistol, sir!" He barked.

Korse turned quickly, a malicious expression suddenly growing on his once serene face. "I know what it is, you sad little underling!" He spat, "I helped engineer the damn things!"

"Sorry, sir!" The officer replied in an unchanged tone of respect. Korse smirked and paced towards him slowly, suddenly finding some hidden humour in their situation.

"Tell me, sad little underling, what is your name?" He spoke, sounding eerily calm. If he wasn't so Jack Nicholson style creepy, he might even sound like he was being nice.

"Inspector Robert Lee Ford, sir!" The officer replied, retaining the bark in his tone. He took off his helmet and held it in one hand, the other firmly around the hefty laser rifle in his hand.

"Fantastic, Inspector Robert Lee Ford… sir," Korse said, a grin on his face. "Tell me your clearance level in this wonderful whacky world of ours,"

"My clearance level, sir?" Robert Lee asked, side glancing as he continued to stand in as stoic and straight a position as he could. "At Better Living?"

"Yes, Inspector Robert Lee Ford," Korse replied, his voice still surprisingly calm.

"It's a level six point one, one, sir," Robert Lee replied, watching Korse with his eyes as his superior walked around him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Robert Lee grimaced a little under the firm grip, but tried very hard to maintain his army boy like posture.

"Oh my, Inspector Robert Lee Ford," Korse said, "That is wonderful… my, my, my, what a lot of clearance you have, Inspector Robert Lee Ford."

"Uh… thank you, sir," Robert Lee said, losing his bark and sounding a little more hesitant. "It was increased a week ago,"

"Well then, tell me, Inspector Robert Lee Ford, what sort of person would be carrying a gun like this- this… AK99 automatic laser pistol?" Korse asked.

"AK99 automatic laser pistols are issued to special forces only, sir!" Robert Lee replied, the gusto in his speech returning.

"Very good," Korse said and removed his hand from Robert Lee's shoulder. "Special forces only… you know why, Inspector Robert Lee Ford? Have you ever wondered?" He said, almost tauntingly, as he took a few steps away, his eyes on the broken gun. "I bet you have, Inspector Robert Lee Ford… I bet you have- a lot of officers… less… special officers, have wondered this very thing," He said. "It's just jealousy… a pathetic little trait that humans have but computers- robots- no, they have none… they're so… perfect that way." He drifted off into pensive thought for a chilling moment of silence before adding; "Well of course you'd be jealous, and of course you'd wonder-"

"I wasn't- sir-" Robert Lee muttered in resistance, still standing up straight.

"These pistols are so few and far between, the technology required is… outlandish… just fantastically outlandish," Korse said, mesmerized by his own creation. "The range, the precision… these things can even be dual-linked into a pair that works as one complete destruction machine." Korse was positively glowing and gloating now. "This was once a pair… a very special pair for a very special kind of soldier," He said as his fingers traced the barrel. Slowly, his finger tips fastened around a piece of melted red plastic just poking out of the barrel, and he yanked it out with some force. As he straightened up to stare down at the offending object that had lodged itself into this intricate piece of art that he had helped build. He smiled to himself.

"Someone from Better Living, sir?" Robert Lee asked, finally turning his head and loosening up. "A traitor?"

"Doesn't it depress you, Inspector Robert Lee Ford of a clearance level of six point one, one?" Korse said as he turned slowly to the officer. "The absolutely heart wrenching thought of being rejected, scorned, and even backstabbed by something you yourself had created… something that was supposed to be on your side… something… yours. Have you ever felt the brunt of such a brutal occurrence?"

"Sir… I,"

"Well of course you have… everyone has had that experience, and everyone would know that it is the most… absolutely… catastrophic kind of feeling," Korse said. He twisted the barrel, and it made a clicking sound. He turned it over and pushed in a button with a lightning bolt symbol on it. The gun beeped back, making a high pitched sound. He cocked it. "But this is why I like computers… machines… robots," He sighed, "They do not backstab, they do not scorn or reject you… they're perfect…" He smiled, looking up. "So unlike the human race," He pointed the gun at Robert Lee who staggered backwards a little, but was too afraid to move any further.

"Sir!"

"Doesn't it depress you, Inspector Robert Lee Ford?" He grinned like a murderous Cheshire cat. "How quickly us feeble humans can turn on our own kind," He said, his thumb switching off the safety on the pistol. Robert Lee's eyes widened with terror as he gulped down. He hugged his rifle, but made no effort to use it. "Doesn't it depress you?"

_Bang!_

In a blaze of white, Robert Lee's forehead was punctured with a laser beam bolt, leaving behind a smoking black hole. He fell to the ground, dropping his rifle as his knees collided with the earth. He went face down and Korse watched him as if he was a glorious painting he had just created himself.

"Sir! What happened?" Chief Dallas came sprinting over, looking exasperated and sweat drenched. He took off his helmet and stared down at his fallen comrade. "Sir?"

Korse Dracula boys stepped in front of the worried Chief Dallas, stopping him from approaching their master in command. Dr. Dallas quickly drew back, trying not to look those ugly masks in the eye.

Korse simply stuffed the pistol into his holster and looked solemnly out into the horizon where the lights of Battery City beckoned him from a distance. "Tell the other men to move out, there's nothing here…" He said, "We'll regroup in the morning to go over some plans and tactics on how exactly we shall deal with the scum called Killjoys and their twisted little yellow clad leader," He smirked, stepping over the corpse on the ground. "And if you could be so kind, Chief Dallas Smart of the Scarecrow team," He began, "Get someone and please clean this frightful little mess up…" He straightened his cuffs and smiled warmly as he edged away calmly like he was just talking about a dirty dish in the sink. "We should try our best not to frighten the skin off the delightful children at this school," He said. "The poor things… they've been through so much already."

Chief Dallas, ever the control freak, somehow always knew when to bite his tongue… and he was certain that this was one of those times. He watched solemnly as Korse walked off into the darkness towards his squad car that was parked and waiting at the edge of the football field ahead. Looking down then, at his colleague and friend who lay motionless in the dirt, he felt moment of fierce betrayal and doubt. He glanced at the Dracula boys as they suddenly moved into action to follow Korse.

_Some days, it just ain't worth coming in to work…_

With a sigh, Chief Dallas waved out to the group of men still scouring the field for clues and shouted out an order; "We're done out here guys! Let's clean up and ship out for the night!" A few voices replied; their sentences punctuated with yes sirs and right away sirs. He took in a deep breath and glanced back at poor Inspector Robert Lee. "Christ, Robert… what the hell did you do?"

Back in his squad car, Korse spent another dreamy moment staring down at Bloodshot's now somewhat fixed and rebooted automatic laser pistol. He looked upon it in a similar way a heartbroken man may look upon the portrait of a lost lover. "My, my Bloodshot," He spoke softly and slowly, "What a disappointment you've been," He said, and ran a finger down the side of the gun pensively. A small smile grew on his thin red lips. "But it's okay, Bloodshot, you'll come back home eventually…" He breathed, "Soon, you'll come home to me…"


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

**WE'RE ON THE CLOCK, SO KEEP RUNNING**

When the sun came up again on the old, rickety Killjoy safe house, Party Poison woke up to the sound of silence. He sucked in a deep breath of morning air; yet to be tainted by the day's carcinogenic fumes, and flipped over onto his back. The mattress creaked under his shifting weight, the tortured old springs proclaiming their unhappy unrest. His bed was a sad excuse for one; just off colour sheets and a few knitted wool blankets that wrapped around his naked torso. His chest moved up and down to the rhythm of his quiet breathing, and he took a moment to just lie back with his eyes cast towards the wonderfully blank and boring ceiling.

He traced the crack line in it that ran from one end of the room to the other with his eyes, and tried to imagine what would happen should a cascade of rain plague this part of the arid desert. It had only happened once, but Party Poison hadn't been home to witness it as it drenched his cluttered and haphazard bedroom. He pretended for awhile that the crack in the ceiling was a portal to another universe- perhaps a gate upwards and beyond- to paradise or something like it. He wondered if he would take the leap of faith and just break the surface already. Would he go inside the chasm and experience everlasting happiness? Or would he rather just stay where he was; lying back on a dilapidated mattress and staring at his chance for freedom in the face.

The rest of the room mocked him, and he tried to ignore the fact that it was all so old and waiting to fall apart. Torn and faded brown floral printed wallpaper stained the walls like age on the pages of a forgotten novel. The floorboards were scratched up badly, but there was so many items strewn across it that it to cause a distraction. Party Poison ran his hands over his face, letting them rest over his eyes for a moment as he steadied his thoughts and forced his mind into a blank- which was always hard to do for such a heavy over thinker. Finally, he steadied his breaths and pulled his palms off his face, flopping his arms to the side again. He tried to think about nothing but the fact that for once… it was actually quiet around here.

There weren't many moments in Party Poison's life when he could just lie back in silence like that, and so he always tried to make sure he took the opportunities when they came. Small sunbeams pierced through his translucent curtains; a dance floor for dust moats that spun lazily in them. He could've watched them for hours through the fringe of his crimson red hair that fell messily over his eyes. He could've written all of them a song to dance to. He could've told them about the door to paradise hanging above him. Then, for a split second, all that blank and meaningless thoughts he was forcing himself to have so he could experience still, silence, and meaninglessness, shattered into a million pieces. Party Poison wondered if Bloodshot had stayed, or if his instincts rang true and she had left in the middle of the night like he thought she would.

_Can't stop a runaway from running away…_

Suddenly, he heard the sound of rollerblades on dry dirt outside; a dull scraping sound that scratched away inside his brain. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes that were now wide open as he rose to full alertness to listen. It drew closer. "Show Pony?" He called out.

There was a knock on the door and Party Poison knew it had to be him. He sprang out of bed, pulling up his unbelted stonewashed skinny jeans and heading for the paint chipped door. When he pulled it open, Show Pony was on the other side with a pre-written sign in hand. "She's gone." It read. "Should I have stopped her?"

Party Poison sighed, casting his eyes to the ground as he thought for awhile. He stepped past Show Pony who was wearing frightfully bright colours for that time in the morning; aubergine and red striped leggings with his trademark black thong overtop… and a bright pink tank top- once again, two sizes too awkward. Party Poison looked out to the horizon and was met with its disappointing emptiness. He pulled a pre-packed electric cigarette out of his back pocket and flicked it on, placing it in his mouth to take a drag. "Can't stop a runaway from running away," He said, blowing out a stiff cloud of smoke from his pale chapped lips. He placed the cigarette to his lips again, "She was an android soldier anyways, Show Pony… she would've run whether you liked it or not."

He turned around and saw Show Pony scribbling out another sign. He waited until the mysterious man in his blue motorcycle helmet and shin guards lifted it up for him to read. "I can be persuasive…"

Party poison smirked, "Sure you can, kiddo," He said. "I know,"

For a moment, he let silence pass between them as a breeze picked up, blowing through his hair. The mix of the cool gust of wind and the scorching sun on the bare skin of his torso gave him an experience to get lost in for awhile. But the nagging thought snaked back into his head. He poured his energy over it for awhile; why was he taking Bloodshot's leaving to heart so much?

When he looked up, he glanced towards the parked Trans-Am that glowed in the orange sunlight of 8am. "What the…" Party Poison spotted something on the hood of the car; waving around in the wind. With a quick look back to Show Pony who also seemed to notice the object (but it was impossible to tell, given the tinted helmet he was wearing), Party Poison ran up to the car, his boots crunching the dirt underfoot.

A note on the back of an old anti Better Living propaganda poster he had sketched out months ago was pinned under one of the Trans-Am's rust ridden windshield wipers. He picked it up and saw that Bloodshot had left him a hasty message written in a blunt 2B.

"_Can't tell you how bad I feel for leaving like this, but then again, we're not exactly friends. I meant what I said- you're fighting the good fight, and I hope you get what you want, Poison. Just be careful about the price you might have to pay for it. _

_Caveat Emptor…_

_You have enough on your plate without housing a runaway soldier who's running low on blood again. I'm sure I'll see you soon. Fate's a little funny like that, and we all move in circles."_

Party Poison's tired, weary face lit up with a small smile. He saw there was a P.S. at the bottom of her note.

"_P.S.: I left my pistol with your silent, genderless friend. He seemed to like it, and I have no need for it where I'm headed."_

Party Poison pondered her final words for a moment as Show Pony skated towards him. His silent, genderless friend tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the stray AK99 automatic laser pistol with a nod. "Thanks, Show Pony," Party Poison replied and took it. "Sure you don't want to hold on to it?" He asked. Show Pony shook his head.

Party Poison held the pistol in his hand for awhile, the metal glistening in the bright sunlight. It was the kind of shine that needed a sound effect to go with it. He remembered the first time he had held it in his hands… it was yesterday, but it felt like years ago. Years ago when he met someone he was willing to shoot almost as immediately as their paths crossed. Years ago when he realized he wasn't the only one running around searching for a lost identity… and trying to salvage the fragments of a lost life.

_What was it she said? It's not like we're friends…_

The Killjoy ring leader smiled ironically to himself, unsure of how he was supposed to take Bloodshot's leaving or her note. Perhaps he felt he owed her his life, and the life of the other Killjoys for helping them escape the sting at St. Christopher's high school. Or maybe it was just the strange feelings that came with meeting a kindred spirit. Friends these days were hard to make... and harder to keep. He blew out another puff of smoke before flicking off the electric cigarette that had burned out to nothingness between his lips as he spent that time quietly reading the letter. He stuffed it in his pocket and took a firm hold of the pistol again, his finger curling around the trigger.

_How do we part? Goodbye or good riddance?_

"What's going on?" He heard Fun Ghoul's voice from behind him and turned to see his fellow Killjoy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching unflatteringly. Even though it was impossible to see, Party Poison had an inkling that Show Pony was probably cringing at the sight. Fun Ghoul finished by running a hand through his greasy hair and yawning without a shred of tact; "You okay?" He asked, still mid-yawn.

"Hmm," Party Poison replied, feeling like it was apt enough given the situation.

"Show Pony?" Fun Ghoul said, turning to the silent member of their group, ironically, for answers. Show Pony just scribbled out another scrap of dialogue and showed it to Party Poison who smirked. "Hey- what did he say?" Fun Ghoul asked- always hating being the one out of the loop… especially when a joke was concerned. As far as he knew and was comfortable with, that was Kobra Kid's job.

Party Poison turned to walk past Fun Ghoul, pausing to put a hand on his shoulder as he smiled. "He says his name's Skyrocket now," He said and walked away, leaving Fun Ghoul to glare disapprovingly into the dark abyss that was Skyrocket's tinted motorcycle helmet.

While Party Poison was mulling over the sudden disappearance of Bloodshot and the Killjoy's next move on the chessboard that was Battery City, Kobra Kid was falling in love. The group, Skyrocket included, had driven out to another safe house an hour away from theirs to pick up a few supplies. They did so every couple of months or so, just to keep tabs, charge up their weaponry, as well as exchange some information with another group of rebels. There were (usually) three of them living at the old chapel-turned-refuge; Freddy Fastpants who repaired and built vehicles (arguably a little better than Fun Ghoul would like to admit), Genevieve; their pink haired leader who had been missing for a few weeks now, and Little Misfortune; a Japanese raven haired 20 year old who Kobra Kid had always had a little crush on. It happened from the moment he saw her knee high stockings and Japanese style school girl uniform (with pigtails and a navy blue bow around her neck to match). Little Misfortune of course, seemed to be none the wiser, even though Kobra Kid was anything but subtle with his gawking and staring… and mental undressing.

_A better looking Bill Murray, but still lost in translation._

They sat in her makeshift laboratory that scarily enough, doubled for the kitchen. Everything was white and pastel coloured; like a fun house or nursery for daddy's demented little science nerds. Kobra Kid watched her from a barstool as she finished with the microscope and rearranged her slides in silence for awhile; humming to a tune that blared through the earpieces of her headphones. She caught him staring and smiled as he quickly flicked his attention back to a copy of the latest Murder magazine.

She slid into a seat next to him and cocked her head at him innocently, making sweat form a line across his forehead as his cheeks blushed red. He flicked through an article guns and ammunition as she leant in. Suddenly, the collar of his jacket felt awfully tight.

"Does it hurt?" She asked as she inspected Kobra Kid's neck wound. Her gloved fingers prodded the green tinged scars on his pale skin and he flinched a little. He quickly recovered, grinning sheepishly.

"No," He said, clearing his throat. "I have a surprisingly high threshold for pain," He nodded and leaned back in his chair; trying very hard to adopt a more casual carefree posture. Suddenly, Fun Ghoul walked in and flicked his earlobe, making Kobra Kid jump. "Yeowch!" He howled, "Fuck!" He gritted his teeth and put a hand to his red ear.

Fun Ghoul giggled, and so did Little Misfortune. "For a skull as tough as cinder blocks, the rest of you doesn't quite measure up, Kobra," Fun Ghoul grinned as he ruffled Kobra Kid's blonde hair- just to really twist the knife in. "He's a good kid, Little Miss," Fun Ghoul winked at her as she gave him a sweet little smile, "Just a little soft around the ears I guess…"

"Don't you have something else to do?" Kobra Kid snapped, looking considerably annoyed for such a mild mannered guy. He pulled up his red leather jacket and hunched over, placing his elbows on the kitchen counter in front of him. "Isn't Freddy Fastpants around for you to have some sort of stupid competition about stupid stuff with? Stupidly..."

"Wow, harsh words there kiddo," Fun Ghoul smirked. "Uh, not really- It's still a little awkward between us after that time I walked in on him dancing around in the garage to a Spice Girls song,"

"Spice Girls?" Kobra Kid asked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. Fun Ghoul nodded. "Wow, Freddy Fastpants is old…"

Freddy Fastpants _was_ old; not that he liked admitting it of course. He was about neck deep into a mid-life crisis and denial had become part and parcel of who he was. He always wore too much animal print, or too much leather… or a vomit inducing combination of the two. Even Skyrocket couldn't comprehend his sense of fashion, but would periodically pretend to like Freddy Fastpants just to irritate Fun Ghoul- an activity that was fast becoming a favourite of his.

Party Poison, on the other hand, looked up to Freddy Fastpants. He found a strange, understated wisdom in the way he viewed life and the way he carried himself. Besides the obvious aging denial that Freddy Fastpants was going through, he was really just a rough and tough Australian cowboy who still believed in the value of a hard day's work.

_And every jaded young thing needs a cowboy to look up to…_

"Freddy?" Party Poison called out as he stepped into Freddy's garage. He saw Freddy bent over the exhaust pipe of his souped up Harley Davidson motorcycle.

"I tell you what I want, what I really, really want…" He sang to himself quietly.

"Fred?"

"Oh- Christ!" Freddy spun around and pulled up his goggles. "If it ain't the kid who puts the fun in funeral…" He grinned and sprang up to embrace Party Poison. The younger man laughed and hugged him back. It was the welcome a father might give his prodigal son. "And looky here!" Freddy said, looking doubly excited when Grace stepped out behind Party Poison, smiling shyly. "Oh look at you, you must've grown a whole foot since the last time I saw you!"

"Fifteen centimetres!" Grace chirped, glowing with pride as Freddy Fastpants patted her on the head.

"Ah well, I can tell!" Freddy replied with a laugh, "Before you know it, you'll be taller than the rest of us, won't ya?" He said, and Grace nodded excitedly. "Say, why don't you have a look around here yeah? And if you see anything you like, I'll let you keep it, what do you say?" He grinned.

"Yay!" Grace cheered, punching her fists into the air before scampering off to discover the garage.

"Where's that old dad of hers?" Freddy Fastpants asked Party Poison when Grace was out of earshot.

"In the car catching some Zs," Party Poison replied, "He didn't get a lot of sleep last night- I think the last operation kinda took it out of him,"

"I know what that's like," Freddy nodded and made a glance to Grace who was scaling an arrangement of bricks to peer into a shelf overhead. "And how about you? How you holding up?"

"As good as any other renegade fighter living on borrowed time," He shrugged, "You know the weirdest thing happened yesterday though," He said, and Freddy looked at him with interest. He pulled out Bloodshot's AK99 automatic laser pistol and showed it to Freddy whose jaw dropped open at the sight of it. "You don't happen to know how to use one of these without losing an arm do you?"


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**MY BABY'S MADE OF FLUORESCENT LIGHTS: THE LAMENT OF KORSE**

Korse sat in his creaky old leather office chair all day, staring at VTV feeds through a hundred or so screens that were stacked around his vacuous black room. A single light fell on him, like a spotlight on our lead actor as he performed some elaborate action centre stage… except of course, he was very silent and very still. He tapped his fingers on the steel edges of his armrests and with his red circled eyes, stared long and hard into one monitor in the middle of all the mess of gadgetry around him. It showed a still image of Bloodshot getting into Party Poison's Trans-Am.

"Two of you," He spoke up, and his Dracula boys who stood at the door perked up, ready to spring into a bloody battle for their master in command. "Get out," Korse ordered. His Dracula boys hesitated for a moment, glancing at each other, and then quickly exited; having learned from previous times that hastily is the only way to leave Korse. The door slammed shut behind them, echoing on forever in the quiet room until finally, the eerie silence returned.

Silence had become Korse's only companion since he was only a little disturbed kid with an infatuation for all the possibilities scalpels and electricity could offer. It was a torturous friend, for it was only at these quiet times when he could very clearly hear all the demented voices fighting for rank inside his head. For now, he allowed his dark thoughts to wrestle for dominance; until of course, Party Poison distinct laugh snaked its way into the crowded space. He imagined Party Poison pointing and laughing at him as the Killjoys massacred his last squad car, and after the last OZ operation they had shutdown. Then he imagined Party Poison laughing as he slung an arm around Bloodshot who smiled back, also seemingly amused at Korse's downfall so far.

Suddenly, Korse could take no more. He stood up and launched himself towards the screens, placing a hand on either side of the monitor that showed that still image of Bloodshot as he continued to stare at it with a growing intensity. His eyes flicked upwards and he spotted the side of Party Poison's face through the windscreen of the Killjoy car.

"What do you see in them?" He posed the question to a room filled with no one who could answer. "Why them?" Korse sneered, his face growing exceedingly closer to the screen before him; his sharp nose almost touching it. Without warning, he hung his head and punched the screen with one closed fist in a sort of disappointed, grief-filled agony. "Why Bloodshot… why my Crimson Dahlia…" He sighed like a jilted lover.

He returned his gaze towards the screen and ran a bony hand over Bloodshot's projected image. An uncanny smile snaked across his thin lips. He said nothing… for a very long time. Korse might have seemed very incapable of the more tender forms of emotion; such as mercy… or love for that matter, but for some reason, Bloodshot was a special exception to the rule. Perhaps it was the glorious symmetry she had; one part computer and one part woman- one part something he could have full control of and one part he could fall in love with.

_Who didn't want a real living, breathing, program running Stepford Wife?_

Suddenly, Korse sprang to life again and hit a few buttons on the panel under the monitor he had been accusing of abandonment. Buzzing noises filled the air and he pushed a flashing button just under the screen before typing in a few more numbers on the panel. "You're still here," He murmured to himself, "You can never leave, my Crimson Dahlia…"

_Ksch…_

Suddenly, a blue pool of light beamed beside his lonely office chair and Korse stopped all his action. He smiled again, and waited patiently. The blue light rose up into a million or so numbers; zeros and ones that spun faster and faster until they blended into one image. Korse turned around slowly and was met with the most exquisite hologram of Bloodshot; his Crimson Dahlia; just as she was frozen in time on that monitor just behind his incredibly bald head. His smile turned into a grin.

He reached a hand out to a button behind him and pushed it in, making the blue hologram flicker for a moment. Suddenly, Bloodshot began to move. She relaxed, looking down and then up again to where Korse was standing. She smiled and cocked her head sweetly, elegantly, femininely- and more importantly- nothing like how Bloodshot would've looked upon Korse at all. "What do you see in them?" Korse asked the hologram boldly.

She held out a delicate hologram hand and batted her eyelids in response. A dress enveloped her out of the blue light she existed in, and she was suddenly dressed in an enchanting 19th century ball dress… something a little closer to Korse's taste in fashion.

Korse hit the panel again and a song slowly swelled into earshot- a stunning, dizzying waltz number that was packed to the treble with as much power as Korse commanded himself. He slid across the floor towards her, one arm folded behind his back, and bowed. He took her hologram hand and kissed it before pulling her into dance position.

They fell into a rhythm and dance together; spinning around the room in a glorious waltz seen only in Disney movies starring beautiful people. Korse smiled happily, though shreds of his usual devious self remained difficult to shake. He thought of all the ways he would claim her again, and all the ways he would punish The Killjoys for taking her away from him. The hologram humoured him with a flirtatious giggle. The music rose to a mighty crescendo.

Finally, the song fell to an end and it faded away slowly. Korse stopped their dizzying dance, his smile fading too. He looked upon his hologram bride; only a pale shade of gray (or in this case; blue), in comparison to the full coloured, highly saturated real thing.

_I guess you could say; it depressed him…_

Fury began to burn his eyes and expression, and he looked upon the hologram with disdain. "Why them?" He blurted and she only smiled in response; a deaf little doll who only knew how to dance. She batted her eyelids and grinned. Korse was positively disgusted then, and he flung himself towards the computer screens again, his back turned to his hollow lover who gladly waited for him to finish his tantrum. "Why those filthy things?" Korse murmured to himself.

He punched a button and the hologram buzzed out, disappearing in a flash of blue and white. She gasped, a look of worry on her computer generated face as she disintegrated.

_Ksch…_

Just like that, Korse was alone in silence again. "Boys!" He called out, his voice packed with an overpowering rage. Two Dracula boys ran in enthusiastically like loyal Labradors looking for a treat. Korse hit another switch and the screen he had been staring at for hours switched off. He stared at the blackness on the empty screen for awhile, waiting for the abyss to look into him with as much intensity as he was peering into it.

_If you can hear me void, speak up…_

He spun around to face his psychotic yes men who waited as patiently as they could manage; their hands fidgeting with the guns in their holsters. "Get the squad car," Korse instructed. "We're going on a field trip,"

A fair few hours from Battery City, someone else was barking orders and making a scene. "Come around now, you little nipper!" Freddy Fastpants yelled out, eyes squinting in the scorching sun of the desert. "Come around or it'll get ya'- and won't be pleasant I can tell you that much!" He chuckled as he watched Grace running towards him, hands on her head to keep her helmet from flying off. A little firecracker rocket exploded behind her, sending a bright pink light firing off into the sky a fair twenty five or so feet. Grace quickly spun around, running backwards towards safety where Freddy Fastpants stood with Party Poison. They stood behind a broken wooden fence that used to act as a border between the old gas station that was now a safe house, and paddocks of green corn fields behind it. Now there was just flat, dusty dirt. Grace kicked up small clouds of dust as she hurried back towards the men.

"Wow!" Grace squealed excitedly. "Didja see that?"

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" Freddy Fastpants said, chuckling merrily. With his red sunburnt cheeks, gray goatee and positively jolly attitude right now, Freddy Fastpants looked way too much like Santa Clause.

_Which was, by the way, another brand that Better Living bought over in 2019…_

"Charge her up," Freddy Fastpants said, still watching the rocket as it reached its highest point in the sky at thirty feet.

"Right," Party Poison replied quietly, lifting up his arm to point the AK99 automatic laser pistol right at the rocket that was beginning to descend to the earth. He flicked off the safety with his thumb and with his other hand he hit a blue button on the side. _Whoooosh!_ The gun charged up and suddenly felt a little heavier than usual. Party Poison concentrated, trying not to think about the growing weight in his hand.

"Hit it, kiddo- it's now or never!" Freddy yelled.

_Bang!_

It was an ear-splitting sound and it rang out in the empty dessert for miles. "Fuck!" Party Poison blurted out as a bright white light shot out of the gun and blew the rocket into tiny little plastic and paper fragments. He laughed and Grace clapped excitedly. "Holy shit," He chuckled.

"How does it feel?" Freddy beamed.

"Like way too much power for a block of steel and microchips," Party Poison smiled, shrugging. He looked down at the gun.

"That was a bloody good shot, though," Freddy Fastpants nodded, laughing a little. "For a block of steel and microchips that is!" He patted Party Poison a little heavily on the back. "Which is sacrilege considering the weapon you're talking about," He winked.

"Hmm," Party Poison smirked, "I forget how highly revered these things are," He said. "But I'm a simple man, Freddy Fastpants," He smiled to himself, secretly admiring the way the gun looked in his gloved hand. "Don't all guns end a life the same way?"

"Some more flamboyant and finite than others," Freddy said. "Don't be scared kid… doesn't make you one of them if you just so happen to like the weapons they use,"

Party Poison looked up at Freddy and they shared a knowing glance. "Well," Party Poison said, sighing, "It's a pretty fucking good shot,"

"That's my boy!" Freddy grinned. "Those flamin' galahs at Better Living won't know what hit them,"

"Can I take another rocket out?" Grace asked, suddenly appearing right in front of them. She stood on her tiptoes and squinted in the sunlight that she was only just shielded from by Freddy's stature.

"Ah, sure thing," Freddy laughed, patting Grace on the head. "Go on then! You know where they are, don't cha?" Grace didn't wait til the end of his sentence; she simply scampered off and hoped that Freddy would let her fire at least another dozen. "Sweet kid," Freddy said to Party Poison. "Months out here with just Misfortune can really rip the perspective right outta my brain," He sighed. "I keep forgetting…" He trailed off into silence.

"Forgetting?" Party Poison asked quietly, cocking his head.

Freddy put a hand to his lips, bracing himself for the words he was about to speak, "I forget how small and innocent they are," He said, "I forget… that somehow in this ugly world they exist… you know?" He leaned forward on the broken wooden fence in front of them. "Seems like some massive anomaly… some kind of contradiction of facts or fiction- I forget…" He put a hand to his brow and closed his eyes for a moment and fell silent.

Party Poison thought for awhile. After all the pep talks Freddy Fastpants had given him over the years, and all the discussions over missions, or all the chit chat over weaponry and the weather… or even the Trans-Am (though Fun Ghoul maintained that was his job and not Freddy's), Party Poison realized that they had never really talked about Freddy's past. Who he was today wasn't a mystery; a loud knock around techno guy from Australia. But Party Poison never thought to ask who he used to be. In the silence that ensued after his scattered words, little clues of a life he had spent trying to forget began to swim up to the surface and Poison caught glimpses of them in the way that Freddy Fastpants hung his head and fought back tears that were forming in his eyes.

"How old were they?" Party Poison asked.

Freddy Fastpants looked up at his friend for awhile, as if gauging his ability to handle the answer. "Five," He replied, "Twins," He said. "Twin girls."

It had been years ago. A long time enough to forget, but at times like these, all Freddy could do was remember. Years before he had turned into just another Killjoy on the road to a slow and painful death, Freddy was Frederick Newton Warwick. He was the CEO of a company that produced and marketed hybrid cars in Manhattan, New York. He lived in a nice enough house in a nice enough neighbourhood, and had a nice enough family who lived within their means and only bought organic foods. I guess you could say, they were the anti-Better Living, which made it a whole lot more delightful for Better Living when they walked in one day and tore down Freddy's empire… along with Freddy's life.

Freddy wouldn't budge on a certain business deal that would turn his hybrid cars into luxury electric hummerzines. Freddy didn't like the fact that even though they were electric, the luxury electric hummerzines took so much money and product to make that they would be; at the end of the day; destroying the planet at a fast rate than the average petrol or diesel run beast on wheels out there. But Better Living didn't care about what Freddy wanted or didn't want for that matter; so they used his family as leverage.

They took his wife. Still, certain that they would not do anything to really harm her, Freddy refused to compromise- offering them money instead. No dice. Better Living had more than enough money… they just wanted to change the market, change the people and win the race to consumerist control. So they did the only thing they saw plausible.

One morning, Freddy got a box in the mail. It was filled with an awful lot of red stuff. At his wit's end, all he wanted to do was fight tooth and nail to the bitter end, but he was a broken man. And he was a lonely man. Freddy gave in; gave up; and signed the deal. Electric Hummerzines for all… and my, oh my, did they sell like hotcakes. New York's a funny place-

_Hell, America's a funny place…_

But this wasn't enough for Better Living, as far as they could see, they needed more than just a pretty packaged deal- they needed a reason for Freddy to stay off their case and not suddenly have a change of heart. That's when they took his daughters. And that's when they took his house. And that's when they took his life. That was the day Frederick was lost to the world… that was when he walked out a door and Freddy Fastpants crashed through a brick wall somewhere in the outskirts of California.

As hard as he tried, Freddy Fastpants couldn't outrun his past… and as the weeks, months and years rolled by, he suddenly realized all he could really do was fight back as much as his old bones could manage. His was a story in a comprehensive collection of other sad tales waiting to be told. He recognized the pain in Jet Star's eyes, but never said anything to the other man who was in a similar position of losing the love of his life. Freddy Fastpants knew from firsthand experience that there wasn't a word or a touch that could make a man forget something like that. A wound of that girth and depth never healed, and the only thing to do was to keep going… and keep running.

"Now and then I forget and call Little Misfortune my wife's name… Alana…" Freddy said, "It had been so long, but some part of me keeps going back to those days when I still had her name to call," He sighed.

Up ahead, Grace lit another rocket and was on her way back towards them, cheering excitedly. Freddy managed a little smile.

"Alright now, ya nipper- come back!" He said. "That's it, run, run, run!"

"I'm running, I'm running!" Grace squealed back. Party Poison smiled.

"How do they do that?" He said, "They just… forget," He marvelled at Grace's grin as she raced back towards them. The rocket exploded and fired up into the air with a bright blue light tailing behind it. "In an instant, the world's a beautiful place again,"

"I have no idea," Freddy chuckled, "But thank God someone around here's got a talent like that," The men laughed for a moment. In a silence that followed, they quietly watched Grace line up another rocket for launching. She packed a shell with gunpowder listlessly; like it was a simple everyday activity, and hummed a song to herself.

"What's going on here?" Fun Ghoul asked, walking up towards Party Poison with an opened can of Premoistened Kibble that he was eating out of in the most obnoxious way possible. "What's up, Freddy?" He saw the older man had glassy eyes and scoffed. "Geez, bro, what happened?" He wiped his lips on the back of his hand with a smirk. "Dingo ate your baby?"

Freddy hung his head and rolled his eyes to walk towards Grace. Party Poison turned to Fun Ghoul with a dirty look aimed right at him.

"What?" Fun Ghoul asked, mid chew.

"You ever think before you speak?" Party Poison asked, shaking his head as he leaned against the fence and watched Grace and Freddy fire up another rocket.

"I'm a poet baby, thinking's a waste of words if I don't say em'," Fun Ghoul grinned. Party Poison scoffed, though it was impossible to avoid a smile at Fun Ghoul's lyrical reply.

_Ksch!_

"Bad news from the zones tumbleweeds!" A voice through a radio boomed. Fun Ghoul and Party Poison snapped their attention back to Skyrocket who was skating up towards them with Grace's boom box in hand.

"Freddy!" Fun Ghoul called out, "It's Death Defying!" He said and Freddy immediately shot back towards them.

"It looks like Ziggy the Dog and Darling Duet had a clap with an exterminator that went all Costa Rica and uh got themselves ghosted, dusted out on route Guano." Dr. Death Defying reported, sounding solemn. _Ksch…_ the feed cut out for a moment and Freddy panted as he hit the top of the radio to bring the feed back. _Ksch…_

"Christ! I knew those guys!" Freddy swore, huffing for breath. "Come on, come on," He toggled the reception and the voice finally returned.

"So, it's time to hit the red-line and up thrust volume out there. Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to!" Dr. Death Defying said. "Look here, kitty cats and doggy dogs, if you're jumping over brown foxes then you gotta know the rhyme!"

_Ksch…_

"Killjoys! Are you out there? If you are then let me hear you make some noise!" Dr. Death Defying implored. The boys looked at each other. "Get racing up to the next hole on the course, this one's going by in a flash black birds… it's going by in a flash of good golly gold, so here's a song from my aching heart to yours, Killjoys," He said. "Make some noise!"

_Ksch…_

A song belted out of the speakers.

"What is it?" Kobra Kid called out from the safe house door, Little Misfortune standing next to him with a worried look. Party Poison looked up at Fun Ghoul and Freddy Fastpants with a smile growing on his face. A song from years ago slowly rose in volume from the speakers, starting slow at first, then building to an angry, take-no-prisoners driving song. It was 21st Century Breakdown by a group of long lost poets called Green Day.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**THE FOOD AIN'T GREAT, BUT THESE BARS KEEP ME WARM AT NIGHT  
(AND ALL THE POLITICIANS TO THE LEFT SAY HEY!)**

Fun Ghoul rode shotgun as usual, his dirt covered boots up on the dashboard. Party Poison side glanced at him, but there was too much running through his mind. He didn't feel like adding the tedious task of explaining to Fun Ghoul why he shouldn't have his feet up on the dashboard to the list of things to worry about. In the backseat, Grace sat up on Jet Star's lap, a worried expression on her face. Kobra Kid sat next to them and stared quietly out the window, a hand on the bandage that covered the wound on his neck. There was a little Hello Kitty plaster on it, and even though it was pink, Kobra Kid wanted to keep it on forever. He stared up at the blue sky and thought about Little Misfortune. And how he so desperately hoped that the next time they met, he would have more than a single sentence to say to her.

Freddy Fastpants sped up next to the roaring Trans-Am on his jet black Harley Davidson Motorcycle. The shiny tire rims gleamed in the sunlight, almost blinding Party Poison when he turned to nod at the older man. Freddy Fastpants waved a salute to him and smiled, and next to him in the passenger carrier of the motorcycle, Skyrocket followed suit.

"Take a left up ahead!" Freddy Fastpants yelled out. "It's straight through to Section A9 from there!"

"Gotcha!" Party Poison hollered back.

"You can't miss Congress- it's right there in the middle, a massive bowl- she's a beaut, she is!" He explained. "My girl's rearing to go, so I'll meet you there," Freddy said. "Don't get lost now, will ya?" He laughed and hit the gas. With a gritty roar, the motorcycle sped forward and left the Trans-Am far behind. In a matter of seconds, they were just tiny dots on the horizon.

"Fucking show off," Fun Ghoul muttered.

Every time Dr. Death Defying had played a Green Day track, it had always led them to a political scene of some sort- and this time, the Killjoys were certain the answer lay behind the brass knocker doors of the Congress building. It was one of the oldest buildings still surviving in 2019, and it stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the organized, plastic doll house buildings of Better Living's new standard. Against the backdrop of Battery City, the Congress building looked positively ancient, and it would've reminded society of who they used to be, and their heritage- if only they weren't so brainwashed to the brink of just being mindless shells of human beings.

Whatever it was that the OZ operation was planning, the Killjoys figured it would probably have something to do with political control, a stunt that they had been working on for years. Over the passing years, Battery City's political control just grew more and more audacious. Jet Star often chuckled about how he figured they should just tear up the first amendment by now. "They speak for us, think for us and shoot for us, don't they?" He would muse, "Why the fucking hell not?" Maybe, underneath all the pretty lights of flamboyant market control and consumer servitude, Better Living just kinda liked being an asshole about it.

_To quote a man named Fun Ghoul…_

"Took your time, boys," Freddy smirked, shooting a proud little glance at Fun Ghoul who just rolled his eyes in response.

"The Trans-Am's pretty fast," He spat, "Poison just likes being gentle with her,"

"Sure, Ghoul," Freddy laughed.

"Man, that's… big," Kobra Kid said in awe as he stared up at the Congress building before them. It was big... a big, monstrous structure with roman columns and white washed walls and heavy wooden doors. Grace stood up next to him and put a hand over her brow to block out the slowly setting sun.

"It's kinda ugly," Grace observed.

"Now, now, kid," Jet Star chuckled, patting his daughter on the shoulder, "This is who we are,"

Grace stared up at her father for awhile, deep in thought. "We're… ugly?" She asked innocently. The others erupted into uncontrollable laughter, drawing a few stray glances from people walking past. The citizens of Section A9 just hurried along a little faster when they saw their garishly colourful clothes.

"Well, if the rest of this is beautiful," Jet Star said, gesturing to the bleak architecture of Section A9 "Then I guess yeah," He scoffed, "We're as ugly as hell, kiddo!"

Party Poison smiled to himself and stared up at the front doors of congress. "It's awful quiet out here," He said, more to himself than to the others.

"What's new?" Fun Ghoul smirked. "Let's head in, Killjoys! Pigs in the oven so let's slice us off some bacon!"

"Bacon!" Kobra Kid cheered and ran up the stairs, which was odd because he had announced himself to be a vegan just two weeks ago.

_Way too many blows to the head for just one man to manage…_

"We'll see you when we get back, Skyrocket," Freddy nodded to Skyrocket who sat patiently in his sidecar, an ice cream cone in one hand.

Fun Ghoul looked at the colourfully clad man and made a face, "What the fuck," He blurted, "How are you even eating that?"

Skyrocket didn't reply, he just stared back coldly- not that Fun Ghoul could tell on account of that tinted motorcycle helmet on Skyrocket's head of course.

"Assmunch," Fun Ghoul muttered and turned around to follow the others up the stairs to Congress.

"You stay with Skyrocket there," Jet Star said to Grace as he crouched down to face his daughter. They embraced and Grace suddenly turned despondent and silent. "I love ya, kid, poppa will be back soon okay?"

Grace nodded in response and let go of her father half-heartedly. She turned and walked off to join Skyrocket who offered Grace his ice cream cone.

As Jet Star turned to walk up the steps, a heavy sense of dread filled him, and when he was only halfway up, he had to turn and check to see that Grace was still there; safe with a faceless member of their groups of colour clad rebels. He saw his daughter peering back at him with a haunting look of sadness on her face, and it took everything inside of him to turn around and keep walking up the stairs to his fate. There was so much at stake, and all he wanted was a better world for Grace to live in, so with that in mind he managed to keep up with the rest of the group as they pulled open the heavy wooden doors to silence and darkness inside.

"Torches guys!" Party Poison said, and they pulled out their utility strength torches. Jet Star quickly hurried up behind them and grabbed his laser gun out of his holster as he approached. For some reason, he just couldn't shake the dread that weighed heavier on him at this moment than it usually did.

"Let's shed some light on American politics," Freddy Fastpants joked, earning smiles from everyone but Jet Star and Fun Ghoul. While Fun Ghoul was under the impression that Freddy Fastpants was about as funny as a Better Living brand sustenance suppository (for all those men and women out there who are just way too busy to eat), Jet Star was just too lost in thought to have even heard Freddy's joke. He glanced back at Grace who shrunk back into Skyrocket who enveloped her in an embrace.

He thought he heard Grace murmur; "Will this bring momma back?" But she hadn't. Even if she had, she was too far away for Jet Star to have heard it, but those lines had been spoken by him some months ago on another hazardous journey after an OZ operation shut down. Grace had looked at him with the same sad eyes and asked him that painful question. Jet Star wished that a transaction between his efforts with the Killjoys and his wife's captors could be made… but that was wishful thinking. After all, even if she didn't have a tombstone to speak of, Jet Star had already buried her in his mind.

"Will this bring momma back?" Grace had asked all that time ago. They were in the back of a speeding Trans-Am as it was slowly falling apart and smoking from the bonnet. Jet Star had only just heard Grace's voice over Party Poison's exclamations, Fun Ghoul's groans of pain in the front seat, and the sound of the car breaking down miserably as they sped off at an unearthly speed. He looked down at Grace who had soot and black dirt on her face.

"Why you asking me that, kid?" Jet Star said after a long moment to think. He tried to wipe the dirt of his daughter's face but just ended up smudging it.

"Why are we doing this, daddy?" She asked, and Jet Star's heard burst into a million pieces. "I'm scared,"

Jet Star heard the blaring sound of sirens screaming in the background; a squad car had picked up their trail. He looked up to see Fun Ghoul writhing around in the front seat with a hand over his upper leg that bore a gaping knife wound. It was pouring down with blood and Kobra Kid leaned forward to help add pressure with his own hand to stop the bleeding. Party Poison swore through a litany of "Fucks" and "Mother fuckers" and "Oh fuck, shit, fuck", panting and gasping for breath with wild horror struck eyes as they tried their best to escape.

"Because we gotta, baby girl," Jet Star said, kissing the top of Grace's forehead.

"Jet Star, you comin'?" Kobra Kid said to Jet Star who quickly snapped back into reality. He raised an eyebrow at the older man who just cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Jet Star said and quickly walked inside the darkened building. Fun Ghoul took one last look at the outside world of Section A9 before walking inside the Congress building and shutting the door behind him.

_Thud…_

The sound of the door shutting echoed through the pitch black. Killjoy torches lit small streams of translucent blue light that illuminated small fragments of the space at a time; little pieces of a larger puzzle. Roman style columns, wooden banisters of a staircase, green carpet, and a grand wooden reception area were illuminated for seconds at a time; each clue helping to paint a picture of their surroundings. Together, they edged further into the darkness and plunged into the silent abyss.

_It sure is quiet in the belly of the beast…_

Party Poison's torch lit up red and white stripes, making him smirk for a moment when he trailed the small circle of light along the star spangled banner. "Oh say, can you see?" He murmured to himself. For a moment, Party Poison marvelled at the sheer ridiculousness of his situation… how on earth did he remember all the words to star spangled banner, and yet had no idea what his real name was?

_Cut me open baby, and you'll see I bleed red, white and blue…_

He heard Fun Ghoul's footsteps scale the wooden stairs and followed him. He saw Jet Star, Freddy Fastpants and Kobra Kid follow, eyes peeled for any signs of a Better Living OZ operation.

_Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light  
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?_

Party Poison recalled a bright light burning his eyes when he peeled them open somewhere between the ages of 13 and 15; somewhere in the black hole that represented those missing two years. A mask was strapped over his nose and mouth, and what he was breathing in tasted sickly sweet. He saw blurry faces peering down at him. He shut his eyes again.

_Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,  
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?  
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,  
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there._

Party Poison couldn't be sure if this memory was some horrific nightmare born out of the loose turned screws that rattled around inside his head after Better Living was done with him… or if this was actually, scarily enough, a true occurrence that he had lived through. Either way, he remembered being wheeled down a long corridor in a wheel chair; his head shaved off to a number 2 hair cut, and he was dressed in a dark blue pair of overalls.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

He looked around him as he journeyed further down the hallway, being pushed by a faceless nurse… or doctor- that part was sketchy. But he remembered the others there; like lab rat abominations that screamed and wailed in pain in separated cubicles as scientists and doctors worked on them. He remembered seeing a little blonde girl he might have remembered from a day at High School… that part was sketchy too… but he remembered the way she screamed, hugging the wall of a cubicle as lab scientists jammed shock treatment rods into her spine. She cried, and screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks. There were brain monitors and wires linked up to her head.

_On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,  
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,  
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,  
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?  
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,  
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:  
_

Aged 15, Party Poison roamed the streets, incapable of computing and absorbing the changed world around him. He saw the billboards for a new brand of mind drain; and it was called Better Living. He saw signs and television adverts in shop windows for a new place to call home- so far removed from his former home; Battery City. There were strange cars, strange devices and strange people everywhere he looked. He could've sworn he used to live in this country… used to know this state… used to pace this very sidewalk and know where he was headed.

_'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!  
_  
"Where am I!" Party Poison screamed aloud, but no one listened. No one even stared for that matter, they just kept walking. "Help me! Help me please!" He pleaded. Finally the frustration had mounted to breaking point, and he was left a dishevelled mess. He cried, tears streaming down his face as he pushed himself to keep walking until some sort of an answer appeared to him- faced him- told him, anything. "Who am I?"

"What's your name kid? Are you lost?"

"I don't know… I can't remember…"

_And where is that band who so vauntingly swore  
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,  
A home and a country should leave us no more!  
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.  
_  
"Momma?" Party Poison murmured in a dark alley way, hugging his knees to his chest as he cowered away in the shadows. There was nothing there to shield himself in, or build a makeshift house from… Better Living had shot dead all the bums and hobos and street vermin. He was the only one living outside with the elements to contend with. In their day in age, there was no such thing as rubbish- everything was so clean and boxed up and pretty. Party Poison caught a glimpse of himself in a shop window opposite from where he sat huddled against a brick wall… no, he wasn't one of them, he couldn't be… he was a lost kid with rips in his jeans and dirt on his face. And there wasn't a thing pretty about the way he was feeling. "Dad…" He put his hands over his ears to filter out the painful silence. He thought he remembered it being a lot louder out here in the city… then again, he didn't remember there being such a thing as a nine o' clock curfew either. "I can't remember," he murmured to himself; a gentle complaint as he tried to remember what their names were. He drew blanks. "Momma," He repeated idly, eyes wide open in transfixed horror. "Dad?"

_No refuge could save the hireling and slave  
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave:  
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!_

"Hey kid, wake up- you can't stay here, you know," A Better Living Scarecrow soldier said, poking him with the barrel of his gun. Party Poison woke up and stared right into the torch light strapped to the soldier's head. He was startled, seeing the gun, and quickly sat up with his back against the wall, his hands up in front of him. "There's a curfew, you hear? Nine O'clock, son, don't you know? You new in this section or something?"

"Section?"

"Geez, clean yourself up- where's your special regulations?" The soldier turned his nose up at Party Poison's clothes.

"Special regul-"

"Wait, no, that's only in Battery City now- fuck, I hate being transferred here… uh, soon enough," The soldier thought out loud for a moment before turning his attention back to Poison. "Up you get, kid, and get going- you have a home don't you?"

"I uh…"

"Well don't you?" The soldier barked, making Party Poison jump as he stood up. He crossed his arms, hugging himself miserably as he thought up a plausible answer.

"Um yeah…"

"Where?"

"T-that way…" Poison said softly, pointing to some suburbs far off.

"Well then, get!" The soldier said sternly, shaking his head. "Fucking kids… your parents are probably worried sick,"

Those words haunted Party Poison as he walked off into the night to a home he had just made up to get out of being shot point-blank in the middle of nowhere town. The streetlights taunted him with small pockets of light in the jet black darkness as he walked on… still hoping for an answer.

_Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand  
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!  
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land  
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation._

Aged twenty two, Party Poison had given up almost completely on finding the answers… at this stage; he was ready to be the answer. He stole a box of bleach and red fabric dye from a supermarket across from the bookstore he got a job at and turned his jet black locks into red ones. It was the start of something new. It didn't matter to him that the store was being closed down, and that he was going to be out on the streets- probably end up Better Living soldier fodder like the rest of his cashier buddies did… he knew his loyalties fell outside what Better Living was. He knew he had to take them on and if he was going to die anyway… he was going to bring them down with him.

"They're laying us all off, Poison," His friend Buckley said when he arrived back. "Fuck, don't you care? They're laying everyone off… buying over this whole entire block of stores… and the next one- what the hell is happening? Apparently it's all just Better Living stores…"

"I care, Buckley," Poison said. "We gotta do something,"

"Like what? Dye our hair- fuck it, Poison, you gotta either be them or die… you know that- fuck, I'm handing in my resume for whatever the fuck they'll hire me for…" Buckley spat, running a hand through his blonde hair.

"You go your way Buckley," Poison said. "I'll go mine," He left.

"You're gunna die out there, Poison," He said. "You're gunna fucking die out there you stupid bastard!" He could have bore a hole through his black rimmed glasses with the way he was staring at Party Poison's back as the red-headed man made tracks for the back door. Buckley watched his friend and co-worker disappear, and picked up his chair to fling it at the door.

That was the last Poison saw of him; his best friend of 5 long years. Gone… just like that- just as Poison slammed the door and never looked back. All it took was a little pressure and Buckley who had always been anti-Better Living and anti-authority broke into a Better Living plaything. But Party Poison had already done his time at Better Living… and he wasn't about to turn himself back to them.

"You're gunna fucking die out there!"

"Goodbye," Poison murmured to himself, "And good fucking riddance,"

_Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,  
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."  
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!_

Years had passed, and now, Poison was still a nobody aiming to be a thorn in Better Living's side as he scaled the staircase of Congress. At least now he had the Killjoys, and as dysfunctional as they were, at least they organically worked like a family would.

"You see that?" Fun Ghoul said suddenly, and Party Poison swung around to look to where his fellow Killjoy was pointing. "That little light over there," He murmured, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

"Looks like an LED unit," Freddy Fastpants observed, stepping up beside them.

"Yeah, no fucking kidding-" Fun Ghoul scoffed, "Anyone with half a brain cell could've told you that, Freddy,"

"Funny," Freddy said.

"What?" Fun Ghoul sneered.

"You didn't say anything,"

"You fucking-"

"Shut up," Jet Star spat in a hushed whisper. Silence fell again.

"What do you suppose that is?" Poison asked.

Suddenly, the light moved and the sound of wings fluttering filled the vacuous space. _Squawk!_ "Christ!" Kobra Kid swore under his breath.

"It's a fucking bird!" Fun Ghoul said, watching as the LED light rose into the air to ths sound of fluttering wings.

"Subjects detected, subjects detected!" A robotic voice said. _Ksch…_

The Killjoys stood back and drew their guns to take aim in an intoxicating mixture of confusion and panic. "A bird?" Freddy Fastpants murmured- the only one who hadn't drawn his gun. "Ain't like no bird I've ever seen…"

At least his last words sounded poetic.

A loud bang and a piercing ring echoed throughout the room as a flash of white lit it up for a moment. It was a grand hall with antique tables and potted plants and electronic paintings to deck the walls. "Shit!" Party Poison swore as he shot his AK99 Automatic Laser Pistol, flying back from the force he hadn't geared himself up for. The others shot their guns off too; multi coloured light forces zooming into the darkness at unseen targets. Freddy Fastpants however, never got a chance to pull the trigger. He hit the ground with an awful thud, and that was that.

In the confusion that followed, Party Poison looked back at his fallen friend- a father away from fathers… and saw the smoking black hole that formed in his forehead. He saw Freddy's eyes stuck open and staring at the ceiling. "Fire! Fire!" Kobra Kid yelled out and the Killjoys aimed blindly into the black that suddenly came alive with voices and laser fire. In split second bursts of light, they saw a group of SWAT members running right at them, guns slinging and guns firing.

"Fuck me… it's an ambush!" Fun Ghoul yelled, falling backwards to duck a laser shot aimed right for his head.

Party Poison stood transfixed at Freddy who lay motionless.

_At least his last words were poetic…_


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**DEATH'S JUST ANOTHER EAGER FRIEND OF MINE**

You can tell a lot about a man from the way he deals with thirty or so operatives with guns coming at him… firing, no less. You can tell a lot about a man from the way he deals with an ambush situation. Does he run, does he fight, or does he stand there blinded by the curve ball life has thrown him? Imagine the hundreds of possibilities for fight or flight and the roads to death or victory presented to a person in that moment in time. How do they pick? How were they trained to choose? Is it genetic? Or does it have to do with the way they were raised as fighters or fliers? In that split second moment he has to choose and he has to react. It's true, you can tell a hell of a lot about a man from the way he faces a challenge as it runs right for him.

Fun Ghoul fired like a man possessed, destroying parts of the room and its furnishings, and taking down as many operatives as his laser pistols would allow. He swore, yelled, and carried on like the last piece of thread holding his mind together had finally snapped. Kobra Kid gave up on guns altogether; he just threw himself into the mess of people and dealt damage the old fashioned way; with his two hard fists, knees, elbows and all the rest.

_Now that's the kind of fighting guys with guns never see coming…_

Party Poison used the AK99 automatic laser pistol as many times as his wrist could manage it, but after the 12th or so time, it clipped a nice deep cut between his thumb and index finger, making him drop the cursed object. He picked it up again and stayed low, keeping as close as possible to Freddy Fastpants' still corpse on the ground. Reverting back to using his old yellow laser pistol, he did as much damage to approaching operatives as he could.

Jet Star on the other hand, stood motionless for a good long while, like a deer caught in the vision damaging headlights of an approaching monster truck. His life as he knew it flashed before his eyes as operatives took shots at him, thankfully missing. In the flickering lights, he saw his wife Roselyn reaching out to him with a warm inviting smile. She looked as though she was beckoning him to join her in an eternal happiness she seemed to be experiencing.

_Rosebud…_

Then he thought of Grace, and her scared eyes staring at him helplessly.

_"Why are we doing this poppa? I'm scared…"_

"Jet Star!" Fun Ghoul screamed as he kicked the older man out of the way just in time as a laser rifle began to fire in his direction. "Fucking hell!"

Jet Star fell to the ground in agony as his head hit the ground. When he looked up he saw some Dracula boys running for him, their white laser guns pointed at his head. Party Poison lurched forwards, finally leaving Freddy Fastpants as he took a couple of shots at the Dracula masked men. "Fall back, Killjoys!" Party Poison yelled. "Fall back!"

Fun Ghoul and Party Poison quickly grabbed Freddy Fastpants' lifeless body and with Kobra Kid and Jet Star following behind them, raced towards the entrance. They took shots on their way down the stairs, some operatives barrel rolling down the flight of steps to the death they were bred for. "How the hell did this happen?" Fun Ghoul yelled over to Party Poison who didn't care to reply. "How did they know?"

"Shut up and keep running!" Party Poison retorted, shooting a soldier right between the eyes.

_You can tell a lot about a man by the way he knows when to cut his losses and run…_

Kobra Kid let out a shrill scream as he kicked a Dracula boy in the jaw, sending him flying backwards after a horrible crunching sound followed the equally distressing sight of Kobra Kid's boot plunging deep into his soft face underneath the latex mask. "That's how we fucking do it in Thailand!" He shouted hysterically.

Jet Star finally took a few shots, dropping about five or so Scarecrow officers just as they reached the entrance. There was only a handful of operatives left, but with a dead body in tow, the Killjoys were running out of energy for a fight fast. Jet Star flew out the doors, eager to see his son again. But what he saw waiting for him outside nearly shook the soul right out of his tired body. "Grace…" He murmured, stopping in his tracks.

Next to Freddy's motorcycle, Skyrocket lay on the ground unconscious, and Grace was nowhere in sight.

"Grace!" he screamed and ran towards the motorcycle. "Grace!" Tears welled up in his eyes. Suddenly, a squad car zoomed past, tires screeching and horn honking. In the moment it sped past, the Killjoys saw Korse grinning back at them through the window, and in his arms, a horrified Grace screamed and beat the glass urgently with clenched fists. "Grace!" Jet Star screamed. He tried to shoot the tires of the squad car out, but it was swerving around and dodging all his fire.

"Jet Star!" Kobra Kid yelled out to him first, and Jet Star heard him fire too. Jet Star just kept firing at the squad car, taking out a backlight.

"Jet Star!" Poison screamed. "Fuck!"

Without warning, a bottle smashed over Jet Star's head, bringing the older man to his knees. He yelped in pain as glass shards rained over his face, some falling into his right eye. He turned and saw a Dracula boy standing over him, staring down at him and panting for breath. Party Poison launched himself towards the attacker who just watched and allowed the Killjoy to keep charging towards him. Suddenly, the Dracula boy pulled off his mask, the human face underneath nearly enough to make Poison recount his decision to blow his head right off with the AK99 laser pistol.

But just as Poison took aim, the Dracula boy crumpled to the ground, a stream of blood flowing out of his lips and ears. In a state of shock, Party Poison reeled backwards. "Fuck!" He huffed.

He had always thought it was an urban legend, but as it turns out, Dracula boys did actually die the moment you took their masks off. As their human identities were revealed, a cyanide pill would be deployed into their system, killing them and erasing the possibility of their captors ever learning anything about the inner workings of Better Living.

"Fuck!" Party Poison screamed. He was never one to crack under pressure, but at this moment in time, Party Poison's stronghold on keeping perspective was giving way. He put his hands to his head, staining his already crimson red hair with the blood from his wounded hand. "Fuck!"

He looked back at his men, dishevelled and injured from a mission gone wrong. He looked at the congress building behind them; a nice enough backdrop for a shitty enough story about a bunch of kids who thought they could take on the monsters at the top and win. Black smoke filtered out through the windows of the ancient structure, and a burning flag peeked out from one of the balconies. A fire blazed inside; the bodies of the indiscriminate dead inside acting as the perfect fodder for the angry flames. Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid panted, staring at their leader for their next instruction; the late Freddy Fastpants in their arms. All around him Party Poison saw obvious signs that he had lost the battle. He posed a question to himself: where to from here? What's the other avenue? Party Poison knew the answer to this question above all; there wasn't one.

The Congress building's fire alarm system suddenly began to wail, and the Killjoys stood back to watch as the last shred of their society's past expired to nothing. What was going to replace it? Worst still- who? All they could do was watch with a nagging feeling in the back of their mind reminding them that perhaps sometime soon, they'd follow this last beacon of hope to the shallow grave (made possible by the innovative economists of Better Living). What was it that Grace said?

_It's ugly…_

Well, in today's measure of beauty, or normalcy for that matter, perhaps being ugly was the only way to stay sane. Perhaps being ugly was the only way to stay human; with each frayed edge, each black and blue scar, and each dark distant memory, and in each heart wrenching past- there was an antidote to the plastic world around them. With each new wooden white painted cross stuck into an open field, the Killjoys could paint the world just a little bit uglier. With each tire skid mark burned into perfect, slick, city streets… the Killjoys could paint the world just a little bit uglier. With each blood splattered Better Living emblem… the Killjoys could paint the world just a little bit uglier.

_Those are the sorta things that could give you wrinkles… and isn't that fantastic?_

Party Poison hung his head and took account of all the things he had lost. He watched as Kobra Kid left Fun Ghoul for a moment to attend to Skyrocket who stirred on the ground. He looked at Freddy's motorcycle. "Let's get to the Trans-Am, guys" He announced, bending over to help Jet Star up. "You okay man?"

"Yeah," Jet Star said. "Eye's a little sore, but I'll live," He sighed, keeping a hand over his right eye that had begun to swell. Party Poison saw that tear tracks were running down his face. "Grace…"

"Yeah," Poison said quietly. "We'll get him back, Jet Star," He said. "You know we will,"

Jet Star nodded pathetically and walked over to Fun Ghoul to help him with Freddy's body. Poison could barely bring himself to look upon the carcass as they laid it in the backseat of the car. "We'll give him a real send off," Fun Ghoul said to Party Poison solemnly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Yeah," Poison said quietly.

Far be it from Party Poison to ignore the truth; he reminded himself that had lost pretty much everything. Korse could storm the castle now and hold a gun to his head, but in all honesty, the Killjoy captain saw that there was practically nothing left to rob him of. His parents, his life, his history- everything was falling down in front of him… and now his friends were taking numbers on the way to death's door.

_Perspective's a tricky little bitch…_

Party Poison saw that there was nothing to lose now, but he also knew that he had the whole world to gain. Party Poison put the pedal to the metal and let the Trans-Am take them away from the burning building.

_You can tell a lot about a man from the way he keeps running…_


	13. Chapter 13

**WHO WANTS TO LIVE FOREVER**

**A LITTLE NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:**

The following chapter was hard to write... and perhaps not for the reasons you may think of initially. Taking on a bunch of characters who are already fully fledged super stars in everyone's eyes is always hard, and I have tried my best to make sure I wrote about them in a way that wouldn't have fans picking up their pitch forks and running at me at full speed. This is why this chapter (lucky number 13), was so hard to write. Some of you may hate me, but that's alright. I just want to tell you why I wrote what I did, in hopes that you will keep reading.

There comes a time in every good man's life when he is tested. I firmly believe that there comes a time in every good man/ good hero's life when he makes the bad choice. He has to... how else will he rise to the challenges in his life... and how else will the rest of us learn from his dangerous mistakes? The strongest of us fall in bad times, to be the lamb for the slaughter for the rest of us. Really good people make really bad choices. It happens. I don't mean to devalue their personalities, their importance and their goodness... if anything, I hope you'll see this chapter as a point of reckoning... when the stakes are high and all the best men have fallen. I hope you'll see it as a chapter that gives Party Poison and his band of vigilantes the leg up to do something about it... and to be the true heroes of the story. (I really believe that's why characters like Agent Cheri-Cola exist in the verse... a flick of the switch is just around the corner in these dark times)

I love Dr. Death Defying as much as the next person. This is why I picked him. I wanted to show you how bad it was in Battery City, California, 2019. And how far some people had to go just to keep running...

P.S.: Some people have asked me where my chapter titles come from... I didn't plan most of them... they just came out. Some are obvious My Chemical Romance song lyric references, but others are just all me. On that note however, thank you so much for your support so far. Thank you also for being patient with my editing issues. I work and study, and when I finally get to editing and uploading the chapters I miss out on a few things. I appreciate your reviews and feedback always :)

Keep running!

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**IN THE CITY OF THE BROKEN HEARTED, WE FLY OUR FLAGS AT HALF MAST**

There was a long silence. It echoed over Freddy's and Little Misfortune's safe house, and it echoed through the vacant desert around it. It was so loud it was nearly enough to overwhelm the Killjoys as they stood around a fresh grave in a poor excuse for a backyard. Each man just had his glance cast towards the dirt underfoot, wishing there was something to say, or a reason to pray.

_But let's face it; daddy's not coming home either way…_

Little Misfortune sobbed heavily, tears running down her rosy pink cheeks in tracks of black mascara. She looked like a devastated windup doll. She was on all fours, kneeled by Freddy's grave. The dying sunlight cast an eerie shadow over her and the haphazardly made white cross stuck into the grave in front of her. She cried miserably, murmuring words in Japanese through sad little chokes and half groans. "Freddy…" She muttered. "Why did this have to happen? You never should have left this place..." She said in Japanese. While none of the others could understand her, they could definitely understand her pain and grief. They could understand her anger too. Party Poison suddenly felt akin with this young woman who he had never really bothered to have a real conversation with before. Just smiles, hellos and half-baked goodbyes; nothing really real passed between them. It was strange to be grieving with a stranger, but at least here, in this time of infinite sadness, he wasn't alone. Around Freddy Fastpant's grave, the Killjoys gathered and in the tears they shared, found fellowship.

"Now who's going to protect this house? Who's going to protect me?" Little Misfortune screamed angrily through her tears. "I'll kill them all!" She sobbed, growing quiet. She stared down at the dirt, her fingers flexing through the red earth that stained her fingernails as she dug them in. "Freddy…" She murmured. "I am scared," She whispered. "Please! Don't leave me alone... I'm still here... I'll be a good girl... please..."

Party Poison heard Jet Star breath out a shaky breath and put a hand on his shoulder. Jet Star looked at him and smiled weakly, nodding a thanks for his support. He was now wearing a black eye patch over his swollen right eye.

_Glass shards do nasty work in sockets…_

Suddenly, a roaring engine broke the sad scene and the Killjoys looked up to see a blank van with tinted windows rolling up to the safe house. "You have got to be kidding me…" Fun Ghoul snarled.

The van halted to a stop and the door wheeled open as Dr. Death Defying rolled out on his wheelchair. He was a dishevelled mess of a man; too much hair for starters; bushy eyebrows and long black locks that meshed into a long black beard. He wore a blue bandana around his head and a pair of black aviators. Skyrocket tried to hold Fun Ghoul back, but he just took the opportunity to knock Skyrocket right off his skates as he stormed towards Dr. Death Defying.

"You fucking fuck!" Fun Ghoul growled, his face turning red with a hell bent rage that was breaking the surface fast.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Dr. Death Defying responded, stopping his electric wheelchair and raising his hands in bravado. It sure as hell didn't stop Fun Ghoul from grabbing a fistful of his jacket and yanking him nearly clean out of his chair. The driver of the van, a pink haired woman in a pair of sun bleached leather pants ran out.

"Get off him!" She shouted in a warning tone, but Dr. Death Defying held out a hand to stop her from continuing forward.

"Get back in the car, little bird," Dr. Death Defying said, and his words coupled with Fun Ghoul's menacing glare was enough to make her take a few steps backwards. "This is my fight not yours… stay in the car," He ordered. She seemed uncertain, but went back into the van, giving Fun Ghoul a dirty look. Maybe in another place, at another time, in a world with a lot less hate, Fun Ghoul and the pink haired vigilante could've shared frosted milkshakes and googly eyes over a laminate table at a diner.

_Too bad… I guess cupid's just run outta luck…_

"Fun Ghoul…" Dr. Death Defying began-

"You piece of shit!" Fun Ghoul yelled, veins along his neck nearly popping out of his taught tattooed skin. "You drove us into that fucking mess! You fucking took the wheel and strung us up like little lambs!"

"It is not my fault! It is not-" Dr. Death Defying tried to retort but was cut short-

"No? It's not your fucking fault that we just ran right into hellfire and lost Freddy?" Fun Ghoul screamed. "It's not your fucking fault that they got Grace?"

"Take it easy!" Dr. Death Defying protested, grabbing his jacket back from Fun Ghoul's clenched fist. Kobra Kid stepped up to hold Fun Ghoul back.

"Chill out, Fun Ghoul," Kobra Kid said quietly. "It's a funeral…"

"I know, exactly! Exactly fucking hell!" Fun Ghoul screamed hysterically, flailing around like a man at the end of his fraying rope. "You shit, look around you, look!" Dr. Death Defying looked drained, and he took off his aviators to stare blankly at the ground. "I said look you sick mother fucker! Look what you've done!"

"You told them to go!" Little Misfortune chimed in, still kneeling on the ground for it hurt too much to stand. "Why? He's dead!" She screamed. "He's dead!"

"They came to me!" Dr. Death Defying finally yelled back. "They… Korse… he found me," He said, a little more calmly, his guilt so heavy he couldn't look up at the Killjoys who stared back at him. "He pointed a gun right at my head and said he'd pull the trigger if I didn't sell the next story. Korse said he would destroy everything- everything we've worked together to do and burn a hole right through my skull if I didn't broadcast what I had to," He said. "I figured you guys would be alright- hell, you've survived worse situations… I'm sorry, I just… I didn't know it was going to run down that bad," He said. "We've worked so hard to get this far... all of us... he couldn't taken it all away." Dr. Death Defying breathed. It was true, Dr. Death Defying was one of the pioneering Killjoys who headlined at every operation. "What would you have done?" He asked.

The Killjoys stared back at him, dumbfounded and lost for words. They glared, incapable of filtering through all the swears and the cuss words and the physical pain they wished to descend upon Dr. Death Defying with- so they just stood there for a moment and let the wind that picked up do the talking. Though Dr. Death Defying didn't look up at them, he could feel their eyes bore into him, adding to the pressure of the growing burden on his shoulders.

_Stale mate…_

The weather vane creaked atop the rooftop of the safe house. Some old wooden petrol price signs flapped around in the wind. The cross atop Freddy's grave shifted a little.

Party Poison suddenly stepped up, walking towards Dr. Death Defying slowly. He crouched over him to stare the man in the eye, his hands on the back of Dr. Death Defying's chair. Their faces were mere inches away from each other and the tension grew like wildfire. "I would've taken the bullet," Party Poison replied, the fury in his voice barely masked.

Releasing Dr. Death Defying, Party Poison stormed off towards the safe house, taking heavy steps. The others watched him go in stunned silence. "It's easy for you to say, Party Poison- you weren't there!" The radio deejay replied bitterly. "You didn't have a goddamned gun pointed right at your head- huh!" He shouted. "What makes your life so much more precious than mine huh? What does it? We're all just dogs out here on a jagged battlefield for rank and power and voice and a concept of freedom that I don't think we should be pushing ourselves to believe in anymore… you know what we are? We're all just scum trying as hard as we can to get through the day before Better Living puts us six feet deep!" From the passion in his voice, it was clear that no matter how dark and bleak the words that spilled from his mouth, Dr. Death Defying believed in every syllable. "We're all going to die sooner or later," He said. "Our ticket on the train's bought, Poison… the cards are going to fall where they fall… all I did was shuffle the pieces."

The Killjoy leader suddenly stopped in his tracks, letting the words wash over him as rage grew on his expression. He spun around and charged back towards Dr. Death Defying. In a matter of seconds- before anyone could have thought to stop him (not that they would have anyway), he kicked Dr. Death Defying square in the face and the man toppled backwards in his wheelchair with a rough sounding thud.

"Tell me, Dr. Death Defying," Party Poison snarled at him as he whimpered in pain, a hand to his bleeding nose. "If you're so fucking perceptive… and if you can see the future so plain and clearly…" Party Poison said, "How come you didn't see that coming?"

Dr. Death Defying; the wordiest wordsmith this side of Battery City; radio deejay and self proclaimed prophet finally had nothing to say. He just whimpered miserably on the ground, hoping his nose wasn't as broken as it felt. He watched pathetically as Party Poison turned to the others.

"Killjoys," He said, "If you're with me, I say we ship up and ship outta here. In about an hour, when the sun sinks down low, we should be on the road to Battery City," Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid exchanged glances. "If we're so fucking worthless, let's just hurry up and hit Better Living where they're bound to be," He suggested, taking in a deep breath, "We'll get Grace back, Jet Star," He said, "No matter what it takes."

Jet Star nodded, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. Kobra Kid helped Little Misfortune up off the dirt and together, the Killjoys walked back to the safe house. Dr. Death Defying stayed quiet on the ground, reaping what he had sewn. Skyrocket slid across the dirt on his skates and his wheels threw a puff of dust in his direction; a silent 'get bent' from the mute Killjoy with the word "noise" blazoned across his tank top.

Years ago, Party Poison remembered hearing similar phrases to the ones Dr. Death Defying spoke to him bitterly. They weren't as poetic, but the theme was always the same. It was always a litany of you can't and you won't and you'll probably die trying; as if the idea that his rebel on the road lifestyle choice would probably end in bloodshed didn't cross his mind. Party Poison always knew that the door at the end of the long and winding hallway would lead him six feet under, and that's the way he was living; never looking back and never second guessing. He just kept… running. All he could wish for is that when it came down to it; that final second before the curtains fall and the credits roll, he'd be sinking a few of the opposition's ships as he sank himself.

After all, Party Poison would think to himself, did it really matter if he was gone? Was his life so significant that the world wouldn't bare his disappearance? He didn't think so. He was quite prepared to be the lamb for the slaughter; the cow on the chopping block, as long as he could be a spanner in the works for Better Living too, and as long as he could be a beacon of hope for someone whose life was falling apart because of Better Living.

_Didn't Buckley say it first? "You're either with them or you die"…_

Buckley was a thought that popped into Party Poison's mind every so often. He was a geek from Wisconsin who loved comics, rock music, anything related to CBGB, and would swear to his deathbed that every computer game out there paled in comparison to the original Space Invaders. It always perplexed him that even after all they had been through together, and all the time they had spent being the closest of friends- somehow, in a split second, everything was over. It was the same with Dr. Death Defying... how many more friends and heroes was he going to lose in this God forsaken war? What was it he had said to Buckley?

_"Goodbye… and good riddance."_

The words played over in the Killjoy's head as he scribbled out a drawing on a sheet of legal paper. He sat hunched over a bench top in Little Misfortune's lab, his yellow mask next to him, as he worked on a flyer for Skyrocket to deliver to the Killjoy rebellion presses. With infinite precision, he crafted a careful drawing of Freddy Fastpants, standing boldly in front of a waving star spangled banner- with a catch. The brightly coloured red, blue and white flag was made up of a repeated sentence that read: "Storming the castle".

Fun Ghoul stashed a few extra weapons into the booth and checked the car's engine function as Kobra Kid threw a couple of punches and kicks into the air for practise (although some of those kicks and punches and upper cuts may have just been to impress Little Misfortune). Jet Star on the other hand just sat in the back of the Trans-Am and waited, falling into a chasm of thought over his lost daughter; Grace. He saw something wedged under one of the seats and narrowed his eyes. Bending over, he pulled it out and saw that it was a pair of night vision goggles. He smiled when he saw Freddy Fastpants' name was written on its side, but was crossed out and replaced with Grace's name over the top. But it didn't just read Grace, it read Grace Hemmingway.

_Hemmingway…_

Seeing that name again sent a chill down Jet Star's spine. Was it true? Had he truly, almost forgotten? Jet Star's mind crumbled into a mess of thoughts, memories and a trail of images from a life lived long ago. It shocked him to think that once upon a time, he wasn't Jet Star. Back then, he wasn't just some worthless scum of the earth rebelling against the forerunner of his country. All that time ago, he wasn't a renegade fighter in the backseat of a beat up Trans-Am with nothing but five tokens in his pocket and a blue laser gun in his holster. A long time ago, in a house behind a picket fence far, far away, Jet Star was a father, a husband, and a member of the local golf club. He kept his hair short and his words succinct. He wore expensive suits and went to the theatre; the same place where he would one day lose the love of his life. He turned his nose up at those who thought violence was the only answer. He dreamt a better life for his kid. He saw a future with his wife. He thought his knowledge, his wealth, and his good and kind heart was enough to keep them happy.

_ Who knew happily ever after was so farfetched?_

"She's up and running, Killjoys!" Fun Ghoul announced as he slammed the car bonnet shut with a loud bang, yanking Jet Star out of his daylight dream. He looked up then and saw Skyrocket looking down at him through the open car door.

"Skyrocket?" Jet Star murmured.

The mute man stared at him for a second, and then pulled Grace's boom box out from behind his back. Jet Star didn't think it was possible, but his broken heart somehow found a way to break some more. He took the boom box and held it in his lap for a moment, staring down at it with glassy eyes. He looked up at Skyrocket, and even though he couldn't see for looking, he knew that Skyrocket was teary eyed too. Jet Star nodded at him with a weak smile.

"Thanks," He said, "I'll give it back to her,"

Skyrocket nodded back sadly.

Jet Star turned back to the little boom box. "I know you would've tried everything to stop what happened," He said, "I know you'd give anything to go back in time and…" He trailed off. "I don't blame you, Skyrocket," Jet Star sighed, "We'll get her back." Skyrocket cocked his head at Jet Star who had one last thought to offer; "We have to."

They stayed in silence for awhile and Skyrocket took it as a cue to leave, but Jet Star stopped him in his tracks.

"Skyrocket?"

Skyrocket turned around to face the older man again.

"Do you ever wonder…" Jet Star began, searching for the words to articulate his grief. "Do you ever wonder… why are we doing this?" He asked.

Skyrocket thought for awhile, and then took out his notepad and pen to scribble out a note. He held it out for Jet Star to read; "Because I believe". A small, weak smile tugged at the side of Jet Star's lips. He realized then what his driving force had been all this time… all it took was a more articulate soldier than he to write it out into one succinct sentence.

_Because I believe…_

Jet Star held on to those words long after Skyrocket had skated off to help prepare the Killjoys for their mission to Battery City. He asked himself what he believed in, and the answers finally bled out of the bleakness. He believed in peace. He believed in freewill. He believed in a happily ever after… no matter how broken his spirit was. Jet Star knew that no matter what, he had to believe. He owed it to himself, and more importantly, he owed it to a scared little girl whose eyes lit up the dark world on its worst days. He owed it to his one and only daughter; his flesh and blood; Grace Hemmingway.

"Load up boys, load up!" He heard Fun Ghoul call out and looked up to see Party Poison approaching with a bag of equipment. He threw it into the trunk of the car and passed his drawing to Skyrocket, giving him some instructions about how to distribute it to the rest of the Killjoy community. Now that Dr. Death Defying was a failed method of connection between them, perhaps Party Poison's one page code drawings could fill the void of communication.

Party Poison turned and saw Little Misfortune stepping up towards the car quietly, her hands clasped. She looked despondent and lost- one more disaster away from self destruction. She looked so small and vulnerable now, and while Party Poison didn't like the idea of her being all alone at the safe house, he knew that she couldn't come with them to Battery City. He walked over to her and sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders. They locked eyes for a moment, and in that moment of silence, they ceased to be strangers anymore. They fell into an embrace and Party Poison held her tight. "Party Poison," He heard her murmur. "Promise me that they will fall down the way they made Freddy fall," She said. "Promise me they will be punished,"

They parted and Party Poison looked down at her. He saw the tears in her eyes. He saw her fury.

"Promise me vengeance," She demanded in a low voice, "For Freddy's honour,"

Party Poison nodded. "For Freddy," He said, and turned to walk towards the Trans-Am.

Suddenly, Kobra Kid stepped in front of her and after a few awkward failed attempts at an embrace, settled on a handshake instead. Watching from the passenger seat of the Trans-Am, Fun Ghoul rolled his eyes and scoffed. Party Poison managed a smirk and started up the car, revving the engine that roared unabashedly. "Alright Killjoys," He said, "Let's mother fucking make some noise…" He snarled.

"Fuck yeah!" Fun Ghoul cheered furiously, thirsting for the bloodbath.

As they sped out onto the asphalt, Party Poison glanced in his rear view mirror and saw Little Misfortune watching them solemnly. He hoped that he would be able to give her what she asked for; retribution, vengeance, an answer to the questions left hanging… an imperfect but still satisfying happily ever after to what was turning out to be a jaded little story. Whatever the cost, Party Poison knew he had to deliver his promise, and he knew that he could do whatever it took because he was in this precarious but perfect position to carry out such a mission. He was a Killjoy; a lamb for the slaughter; the one who had chosen death over a so-called easy road to a living lobotomy; the spanner in the works of the Better Living machine.

In that small cathartic moment, Party Poison hit the gas and felt the rush of adrenaline carry away his burdens for awhile. He waved goodbye and good riddance to the guilt, and the worry, and the existentialist thoughts. He forgot about all the gaps and the shortfalls in his tragic tale. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of the simple phrase he used to get him through the hardest of times;

_It's not about who you are… it's about who you need to be._


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA**

Battery City was a sordid place this time of year… well… then again, it was a sordid place nearly every time, all the time, every year. The buildings stuck out like a sharp jagged mass of sores across the otherwise flat landscape around it. The black marble towers and skyscrapers jutted out of nowhere, the only focal point for miles around. Battery City looked like a sickness; a disease that was slowly growing across the Californian desert, spreading into the multitude of sections that fanned out around it.

The sun was setting, ducking behind a heavy mass of clouds that sailed across the darkening sky. It was almost as if nature itself knew its place to play and did its best to set the scene for the upcoming storming of the castle. It was quiet at eight already, the streets clearing for the curfew coming at nine o'clock. Only search light vehicles roamed the cities, barking reminders at a few stray citizens to hurry on towards their homes like good little well programmed machines. A woman with two kids in tow ran across the street hurriedly, a search light vehicle barely missing her.

"9pm curfew, ma'am," The speaker on the side of the tank like vehicle said mechanically.

The street lamps flicked on, lighting up the empty stage that was the clean, sanitized and smooth edged capitalist city. The curfew alarm blared out over the emptiness, echoing against the tall glass castles of Battery City. Billboards everywhere advertised something Better Living endorsed; food, cars, homes and home ware, even health care and education. Some of the monstrous signs just read slogans to live by. "Stock up in case! Better Living products never expire!" and "We only listen to Better Living approve radio stations, because we love America" were a few of the more popular phrases sprinkled around the city in cheesy cursive font.

_Whatever happened to good old fashioned Comic Sans?_

The curfew alarm finally stopped and the surveying search light vehicles drew back towards the sections on the outskirts of the city, making sure that order was kept there too. The silence was deafening, and it found a place to lurk, harbour and multiply in all of Better Living's dark and uninhabited places. It became an ominous creature that roamed the streets; one that the children had begun to believe in.

_You can't hear it, you can't see it… but it'll eat you up if you believe in it…_

But deep inside the underpasses of the city, where the entrance tunnels were, something else was moving in for the kill. The Trans-Am packed full of Killjoys drove through, the neon lights overhead casting a glorious gleam on the paint work of the car. In the dark light, for the first time in what would've been forever, the Trans-Am shone like the Bethlehem Star in the darkness.

"The City curfew is nine o'clock, on entry please check in to a Battery City official for further instruction," A robotic voice echoed along the tunnel.

Party Poison glanced up into the rear view mirror and saw that Kobra Kid and Jet Star were charging up their laser pistols and fitting their holsters with grenades and switchblades. Next to him, Fun Ghoul raised his star spangled bandana and flexed his fists as he breathed in a sharp breath to brace himself.

They approached the guarded border patrol booth.

"Stop your vehicle and await further instruction from the guards," A feminine robotic voice spoke. "Stop your vehicle and await further instruction-"

The voice stopped short when the Trans-Am finally pulled back to a stop. Two guards in white Better Living suits that covered their faces with the logo's black smiley face stepped out, laser rifles in their hands. "Will the driver please step out," The first guard said, his voice filtered through a radio transmitter that he held up to his unseen mouth.

"So what do you think guys?" Party Poison asked quietly, his voice low and dangerous. He picked up his yellow mask and strapped it over his face.

"This is an order- please step out of your vehicle," The guard repeated, his second in command pointing the rifle at the car suspiciously.

_You could say that they didn't see a car like the old Trans-Am everyday…_

"Border patrol reserves the right to check you on arrival… please adhere to the guards' instructions or you will not be granted access to Battery City." The robotic voice chimed in.

"Step out of your vehicle or we will get you out!" The guard said, sounding a little angry.

"Should we say a little hello to the natives?" Party Poison said, a small devious smile appearing on his lips.

"Better Living brand toasters- the toasters of America proudly sponsor this connection tunnel." The robotic voice said.

_What won't they try to sell you during a life or death situation nowadays?_

"Step out!" The guard barked, raising his rifle too.

"Alright, alright!" Party Poison shouted back. "Let me just get my…" He bent over for a moment, disappearing behind the dashboard. The guards watched for awhile in a terribly tense few seconds of silence. They glanced at each other.

Suddenly, Party Poison snapped back up into his seat and threw something out onto the road. It hit the asphalt and rolled over to where the guards stood about five meters away, and the border patrol officers looked down at it.

_ Clink._

A grenade minus one pin rolled over onto its side, a Killjoy arachnid symbol printed on one side.

The guards looked up at the Trans-Am.

The Trans-Am backed up suddenly, quickly speeding away backwards.

"Better Living brand Ritalin," The robotic voice said. "The Ritalin of America invites you to Battery City-"

_Bang!_

A great fireball of orange and yellow consumed the border patrol booth and its guards. The reverb of the blast made the glass on the Trans-Am shiver, and the Killjoys flinched for a moment as bits of laser rifles and chunks of Better Living border patrol officers flew past. A splatter of blood hit the windscreen, followed by a rain of metal and plastic shards.

Party Poison switched gears and turned on the windshield wipers. "Killjoys," He said, "Let's make some noise,"

The Trans-Am bolted forwards into the thick black smoke and flames before them.

A fair distance from all the chaos that the Killjoys were creating, Korse lay flat upon an antique white marble dining table with golden fixtures. He stared quietly, and almost sadly up at his gold and crystal chandelier that reflected his eerie image in repetition of hundreds. In the background, soft, instrumental music played and a dreary sound of a violin howled amidst long piano notes. He fidgeted with a button on his embellished velvet waistcoat.

In distant thoughts, he dreamed up a vision of Bloodshot, his Crimson Dahlia, twirling in a dress the way he had programmed her electronic doppelganger to do… twirling in a way that she had done a few years ago.

"Sir," A woman's voice broke his train of thought. "Your tea is ready."

At the door, a thin woman in a grey power suit and pearls stood holding a golden tray with a tea pot and a floral patterned tea cup. Her eyes watched him in a blank, emotionless way; the way a computer screen would stare back at the worker who tapped away on its keyboard. She was human, but spine chillingly not so, for all life and expression within her had flitted away years ago. It showed in the strange even tone in her quiet but commanding voice.

"Hmm…" Korse responded, pulling up a knee as he shifted his posture on the table a little. He continued to stare upwards, and only made a momentary glance towards the woman at the door. "Thanks Miss Ophelia," He said. "How is the girl?" He added after a thought.

"She's fine sir," She replied in her dead and vapid tone of voice. "She's been very well behaved. Penelope is keeping watch and I have ensured the Boss does not find out,"

Elsewhere in the building, a Japanese woman with kinder, more human eyes than Ophelia smiled down at Grace who sat patiently and quietly on the ground of an all gray room. Innocently, she smiled back up at her, a hand on a small toy truck they had given her to play with. It was the only source of colour in the dull and soul sucking room. Penelope cocked her head and silently continued to watch Grace from her desk as she busied herself with the red and yellow toy truck; her eyes followed her in a way a mother bird would watch its young attempt its first venture out into the skies.

Back in the room, Korse nodded with a faint smile; "Very good, Miss Ophelia,"

"What will you have us do with her sir?" Ophelia asked, and Korse smirked, looking amused at her question

"What do you mean?" He asked, even though he didn't need to. He just felt like hearing her answer.

"We can't house her here forever," She said. "At your command, we will exterminate her,"

In the room, Penelope's hand fastened around a small white laser pistol that she kept hidden in the space between her lap and the desk.

"Hmm," Korse responded, a grin growing on his face as he lifted a gloved hand to stroke his bottom lip in thought. "Good to hear, Miss Ophelia," He said, "But I sadly doubt it will come to that…" He smiled a little wider, "These things have a way of working themselves out,"

Just as he completed his sentence, a siren rang out as a burst of muffled radio transmitted voices shouted in a panic outside Korse's building; "Back away! Back away! Step out of the vehicle or you will be fired upon!"

There was a ear-splitting explosion, and the chandelier above him shook, swaying back and forth as some plaster from the ceiling chipped away and rained down on him. Ophelia snapped her gaze up to the large windows just beyond Korse who continued to lie calmly on the dining table. He chuckled a little, then in a creepy sing-song voice, he muttered: "They're here…"

Twenty floors down, the Killjoys were under attack from more faceless Better Living officers. Armed with laser rifles, the few that survived the explosion snaked through the bodies of their fallen colleagues and took aim upon the masked vigilantes. Fun Ghoul rolled over the hood of the Trans-Am and raised his laser gun to shoot a hole right through an officer's face; the man falling backwards onto another Better Living officer who just tossed him aside like expired goods.

With his yellow motorcycle helmet on, Kobra Kid charged forwards and delivered an upper cut to a soldier, barely missing a shot to his shoulder. The laser clipped the side of his helmet and ricocheted towards Jet Star who ducked out of the way just in time. Inside his dark blue helmet, Jet Star's mind battled to stay focused on shooting down as many operatives as possible… but it was a tough tug of war between heart and head as he tried constantly to keep from just charging into the building to look for Grace.

Party Poison raced forwards, shooting down a couple more operatives as they moved towards the entrance into the Better Living: squad control division building. "Ready or not!" He yelled out as another faceless officer fell backwards into a pile of ash and dismembered bodies. "Here we come!"

Grace looked up at Penelope again, oblivious to the chaos happening below as she sat on the floor of his soundproof cell. She smiled and Penelope smiled back. She held out the truck towards her and a look of confusion flashed upon her captor's face. She relaxed into another smile. "You have to play by yourself, little girl," Penelope said.

She hung her head sadly, and then made a glance towards the door. "I'm hungry," She said.

"Hungry?" Penelope repeated like she was hard of hearing, and Grace nodded.

"I haven't eaten all day," She replied miserably, rubbing her tired eyes that were framed with dark circles.

Penelope looked around for a moment, searching for a solution to their dilemma. "Okay," She said and stood up, moving the laser gun around her back to hide it from Grace. "I'll get you something to eat," She decided and moved towards the door, her eyes fixed on Grace. "You play here by yourself," She said, "Be good, little girl," She smiled.

Grace smiled back and turned around again as Penelope keyed in a number on the panel beside the door. The electronic door slid open and Penelope stepped out, her high heels making loud clacking noises on the slick tiled floors in the quiet hallway outside.

Elsewhere in the building, Korse was very calmly leading a group of fifteen Dracula boys through the wide hallway of the Better Living build facility. "Charge your pistols, boys," he said. "And don't miss a single shot," He grinned. He pulled out his own gun and checked it. "We'll end this pathetic little charade before the Price is Right tonight."

Party Poison ran up to a metallic silver door in the empty building lobby, pressing his back to the wall beside it with his gun held low. "Ghoul!" He called out in a hushed voice. Fun Ghoul ran forwards, Kobra Kid and Jet Star following closely behind as they aimed their guns and checked to make sure the coast was clear.

Fun Ghoul stopped in front of the door's key card panel and pushed a flat device into its slot. He jammed on a few keys hurriedly, making the panel beep loudly. "Access denied: security and staff only." A robotic voice said. Fun Ghoul tried again, glancing to Party Poison who watched him and panted in exhaustion.

"Ghoul!"

"I'm trying!" Fun Ghoul snapped, trying another number combination. The panel spoke up again;

"Access denied: security and staff only."

"Fuck you!" Fun Ghoul grumbled and punched his fist into the keypad. A chirpy little musical beep sounded.

"Access granted. Welcome."

The metallic door slid open.

"Well, that's one way to skin an enterprise," Party Poison shrugged as they ran through the opened doors together.

Penelope returned to the cell with a flat silver tray that sported a plate of unappetising looking cardboard coloured Better Living brand fish flavoured wafers and a glass of milk. Dreamily, she propelled herself towards the room where Grace was and pulled out her staff card for the security panel on the door. But when she looked up, she suddenly gasped and dropped the tray, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound echoed throughout the chillingly quiet hallway.

She stared in shocked horror at the door that was open just slightly, the key panel beside it blinking with a red screen that read: "door left open". Her eyes drifted to the foot of the door where she saw Grace's red and yellow truck was jammed between the metal sliding door and the wall, propping the cell door open. When she stepped forwards quickly to look inside, she saw that Grace was gone.

Neon lights flickered on in the black painted room that the Killjoys raced into. The structure of the large space was reminiscent of a bowl; with an immensely high ceiling and walls that swooped down towards the ground in a curve near the bottom. Pillars in sets of three marked four corners of a circle in the middle where a once neat waiting room stood.

Some Scarecrow operatives waiting inside took shots from behind overturned desks and chairs immediately- there was no room for a breath, a gasp or a split second moment to recalculate their decision to storm the castle… they just had to keep shooting.

"How many out there?" Fun Ghoul yelled out to Kobra Kid as they ducked behind a pillar together.

"Three!" Kobra Kid yelled back, then paused between shots. "Wait, I think there's more,"

Fun Ghoul groaned and ran across the room to the next set of pillars, screaming and firing furiously as he went.

_There were definitely more than three officers…_

Jet Star manoeuvred around the room, dropping officers and dodging gunfire as he did so. "Move back!" He heard an operative yell out. "You're out numbered!"

"Get bent," Jet Star spat and whirled around a pillar to shoot two operatives down in quick succession.

Suddenly, a small voice shouted out to him. Somehow, it was loud enough for his ears to hear it above the screams and flying laser beams of the gunfight he was caught in. "Poppa!" The voice called. Jet Star turned swiftly and felt his heart lurch. Grace stared back at him from an open glass door, looking horrified as her big brown eyes stared at him full of wanting. "Poppa!" She shouted.

"Grace!" Jet Star yelled out as he dodged gunfire to race towards his daughter. "Stay back!" he said, "Stay back!"

Suddenly, all three of the elevator doors in the centre of the large room drew open. The Killjoys looked up, panting and gasping for breath, their trigger fingers feeling numb. Party Poison threw off his mask that was covered in the blood of another man, the crimson red liquid dripping down his face. He looked up, his lips parted as he drew in shallow breaths. Dracula boys charged out of the elevator, guns raised and firing.

Fun Ghoul and Kobra Kid drew back behind columns and fired a few shots. Jet Star scooped Grace up into his arms and with one free hand, dealt some damage to an approaching Dracula boy.

Party Poison stared at his nemesis amidst the room that was descending into its own interpretation of the Inferno.

Korse grinned back.

The doors behind them drew open and more faceless operatives stormed in.

A flash of panic streaked across Party Poison's bloodstained face as he turned and saw more Better Living enforcements running towards them with heavier artillery in tow. Fun Ghoul swore, dodging and ducking tirelessly to deal with fire coming from both sides. Kobra Kid fell under the force of an operative hitting him across the face with the butt of his laser rifle. Forced to put Grace down, Jet Star ducked with his daughter behind a pillar and took as many clean shots as he could. "No matter what happens, Grace," Jet Star spoke urgently to his kid who cowered for shelter, "Make sure you run away from this place as fast as you can,"

Grace only looked at her father with sad eyes, "I'm scared poppa,"

"I know," Jet Star cooed, ducking behind the column for a moment to take a moment's breath. "Everything will be alright," He said, holding Grace's face in his hands as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "All you gotta do is believe."

Party Poison dodged a few stray shots as he made his way to the centre of the room, taking down as many Dracula boys as he could manage. But it wasn't enough. With operatives and Korse's henchman everywhere, the four killjoys were losing the fight… and fast. "Christ," He murmured to himself, panting for breath. A white clad Dracula boy ran up towards him and Party Poison quickly jabbed him in the ribs and pulled off his mask. A man's face underneath stared back at him; expression twisted in shock and inconceivable pain as Cyanide coursed through his veins. He fell onto the floor, lifeless. Party Poison stared down at the corpse, feeling his body begin to cry out from the sheer shock and exhaustion of fighting.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and before he knew it, Party Poison was shoved against a wall. He dropped his gun and looked up to see Korse staring back at him with a menacing grin. "What a crazy race it's been," He said quietly, raising his gun with a chuckle that added insult to injury. "But I made a promise, and I'm a man of my word, Party Poison," His hand tightened around Poison's neck and the Killjoy struggled to move against the wall. He tried as hard as he could to keep from showing his mounting fear. "Or should I say Johnny Kennedy Jett?" Poison's expression dropped and his eyes grew wide.

"What?" He murmured, so quiet Korse would've strained to hear if he cared for an answer.

"Poison!" Fun Ghoul called out to him as he battled with Dracula boys who eventually threw him backwards.

"Fate's a funny thing, isn't it?" Korse grinned. "We all just move in circles…" He said.

A gritty flashback of a blood smeared memory flooded back into Party Poison's tormented head. Suddenly, fragments of a puzzle reeled back into his conscious and he saw it play out in second separated images across his vision. It was in colour. It was vivid. It felt so close… and yet so far away.

Party Poison remembered sitting on the floor of a backroom somewhere, cowering with his hands to his ears as he shook in fear. He was only thirteen; weedy; dark haired; sick looking. Behind him, his parents stood up against the wall, their backs towards him as they cried- a paralyzing fear taking over their bodies. A pair of white alligator skin shoes stepped into Poison's vision as he stayed as still as he could; gazing at the ground.

Then he heard two gunshots. And he heard two bodies fall, crumbling to the ground with horrible cracks as skulls hit the hard concrete.

He knew they were dead.

"What will we do with the boy?" A vapid feminine voice asked.

"What do you mean, Miss Ophelia?" A low, smarmy, recognizable voice asked. It was Korse… years ago but so much the same.

"Well, sir," Ophelia replied. "We can't keep him here forever…"

"Yes," Dr Death said his hand still holding on to Party Poison's neck firmly. "We all just move in circles…" He said. "And then out of nowhere… we reach the end."

"Poison!" Kobra Kid screamed out, but the Killjoy leader couldn't see him. His eyes were transfixed on Korse as the man raised a laser gun to rest the end of the barrel under Poison's chin.

"Doesn't it depress you?" Korse snarled. He pulled the trigger.

_Bang._

"No!" Kobra Kid screamed and took a few wayward shots. He watched Party Poison crumple to the ground, black smoke billowing out of a hole in the side of his neck. Crimson red seeped out onto his pale skin and his body shook and gasped for breath.

Kobra Kid tried to get to his friend, but it was too late. He felt a laser beam sear into the flesh of his shoulder. Kobra Kid hit the ground too.

"Grace! Run!" Jet Star yelled, and Grace quickly got to his feet. Jet Star yanked him towards the door.

Fun Ghoul screamed furiously, shooting wildly. He was taken down with the end of a rifle slamming into the back of his head.

Jet Star only made it five steps before he fell down too. At least Grace kept running. She made it out the door… but when she got outside, she realized she was all alone.

"Grace…" Jet Star murmured from the ground as he felt his life force leave him. "Keep… running…"

Party Poison's eyes fluttered shut. All pain left his once aching body. All sound faded out to a pin drop silence. He considered, in his last moments, the name he heard Korse call him.

_Johnny Kennedy Jett… isn't fate a funny thing?_

_ Sometimes you can find yourself just to lose it all again._


	15. Chapter 15

1**KEEPING YOUR PERSPECTIVE IN PERSPECTIVE**

A very quick note from the author (I wish I knew how to do this without typing it up here in my chapter documents... I'm a bit retarded when it comes to stuff.

But anyway, I just wanted to apologize for the recent lack of updates. It's been a rough couple of weeks, what with the earthquake hitting Christchurch (I live in New Zealand, for those of you who don't know), but thankfully I live on the North Island- far enough away to avoid destruction. My prayers and thoughts go out to those who lost their homes and loved ones. Among other issues, I've had a few of my own this week, unsure if I actually have what it takes to fulfil my lifelong dream of becoming a writer... I struggled with finding a shred of faith in myself in order to keep writing and keep going... but here I am, right? I guess that matters... or something. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Thank you for your support so far!- Shoshana xoxo

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**TOO MANY SINS FOR HEAVEN AND TOO MANY GOOD DEEDS FOR HELL**

Johnny Kennedy Jett was your average loner kid who couldn't fit in anywhere for the life of him. He wore too much black, and listened to too much grunge. He was terrible at science and geography, but he was an impeccable art and English student. He listened to all the loose rules his parents set up for him, and he lit up cigarettes at age 12 when they weren't looking. He was a good boy, a nice boy, and he grew up to be a good enough citizen with a good enough job at a comic book store. He only ever had two best friends his entire life; a girl with long dirty blonde hair and freckles in school whose name he couldn't recall, and a blonde guy named Buckley who didn't know that Johnny Kennedy Jett was Johnny Kennedy Jett at all. Then of course there were the three men he worked with on countless adventure missions in the wicked Californian desert; Fun Ghoul, Jet Star and Kobra Kid. But they were more than colleagues, more than friends- they were family.

It's safe to say that Johnny should've been a better judge of character. Johnny should've been a little more careful about the way he picked friends and the circles he moved in. He should have thought a little more about the sanctity of his life, instead of its brittle, fleeting nature. Maybe then, he wouldn't have lost it to a laser gunshot through his jaw.

At age twenty six years, five months and twenty three days, Johnny died and was zipped into a plain white Better Living body bag.

At age twenty six years, five months and twenty six days, Johnny opened his eyes to a familiar face staring back at him from behind a thick wall of glass. She looked awfully scared, in fact panic was written all over her blood stained face. She pounded a fist against the glass and yelled out to him, but her voice was lost- heavily muffled by the glass in front of him. He moved and saw bubbles float by into vision, along with tendrils of his bright red hair. She pounded on the glass again. He realized he was suspended in a murky blue liquid, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

Party Poison stirred, his vision taking forever to focus on the woman's face that stared back at him with so much worry. She shot a glance backwards and began to work on getting the door to his cell open.

He knew who it was; "Bloodshot?" He murmured through his mask, and his voice echoed back to him. He moved in the liquid, his body reeling back to life, and he placed a heavy hand on the glass door before him. His flesh squeaked against the glass and it sound horrifically loud inside his small tank.

Bright blue and red lights flashed in the outside room, adding to Bloodshot's panic as she struggled with the electronic panel of Party Poison's cell. She said something; the same phrase over and over. It was too quiet for Party Poison to hear, but he read her lips;

"_It'll be alright… it'll be alright… it'll be alright…"_

A second person ran into view, dressed in a long white coat thrown over some more colourful apparel. He held a laser pistol and snatched wayward glances towards the door as he panted, blood smeared across his face and clothes as well. He brushed his shaggy blonde hair away from his face and looked to Party Poison who could barely believe his failing eyes.

"Buckley?" Party Poison murmured just as his vision faded to black again.

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

The sound of a heart monitor beeped quietly in the background. A pair of brown eyes opened slowly, met with a wonderfully boring ceiling. A crack ran right through from one end to the other, and the eyes traced it slowly.

"He's awake!" Bloodshot said happily, appearing into view. "It's alright, you'll be alright," She spoke gently, "Just don't try to sit up just yet,"

"Bloodshot?" Party Poison murmured.

"Yeah," She said with a sigh. "Do you remember anything?" She asked. "Your name? Do you know where you are?"

The Killjoy thought for awhile and silence ensued. He took in a deep breath, "My name is Johnny Kennedy Jett," He said. "And I'm lying in Party Poison's bed,"

He was right. Back at the safe house that was on its last legs, Party Poison lay on his poor excuse for a bed surrounded by machines that helped him back into the pains of living. A multitude of wires were strapped to his arms, chest and the sides of his head, paralyzing him in a web of electronics that fought to keep him resurrected.

Bloodshot looked at him despondently. "They were going to use you for phase three," She said. "But we found you… just in time,"

"Fun Ghoul- the others…" Party Poison murmured.

"They're alive," She said. "Barely… Better Living has them locked up somewhere in one of their Battery City ivory towers,"

Poison heaved out a shaky sigh. His mind and heart began to race.

"Grace's alright," She said. "We were just in time… she's playing outside-"

"What did you tell her?" Poison asked quietly, pain and dark emotion suddenly flooding back into his starved being as waking life kicked in.

"That we're going to get her father back," Bloodshot smiled weakly.

Poison sighed, thinking for a moment; his mind filtering through a million thoughts just to accommodate for the words she was speaking to him. He felt a choking feeling in the back of his throat as his eyes began to mist up. He wondered how it was possible that he had survived a laser pistol shot through his jaw. He wondered how it was possible that he was so lucky while Freddy was still six feet under. He wondered if living was just going to be his lifelong cross to bear. He wondered if that was a curse he was willing to go on with; deep down inside, he wished darkly that the antidote had stuck.

"You said we…" Poison said, and Bloodshot cocked her head. "You said 'we were just in time' and 'we found you…'"

"Yeah…" Bloodshot trailed off.

The sight for sore eyes himself stepped into view then, looking sad and wracked with guilt that he could barely contain. He was around 26 years old and had blonde shaggy hair that hung over his eyes.

"Buckley…" Party Poison muttered, and saw that the man was holding his yellow mask in hand.

"Shh…" Bloodshot cooed, adjusting a few of the wires that lead to Party Poison's temples. He flinched, and then relaxed, the pain in his head subsiding. "He doesn't go by that anymore…"

Party Poison's expression dropped and he looked at Buckley again who hung his head in response. Party Poison gaze fell to Buckley's t-shirt that had the word "noise" scribbled across the front. The air was knocked right out of his lungs and his heart would've ceased to function if it wasn't for all the electricity running through it.

"Skyrocket?" Party Poison breathed disbelievingly, his eyes wide with shock. Buckley looked up at his friend and nodded slowly.

"He pretended to be an OZ doctor to get us into the building," Bloodshot explained, still working on the wires and machinery around Party Poison. "His swipe card still worked after all this time…"

Buckley hung his head again and stepped back to lean against a wall.

"It was you the whole time," Poison said. He could barely believe it. "You didn't say a word…"

Buckley Jonestown would've considered saying something if it wasn't for the fact that his tongue and vocal chords had been removed by Better Living industries during his time there as a lab technician. It was a cheap and easy method to keep lab technicians from spilling the beans to media and rival companies during their crucial growth stage… and it seemed to work like a charm. After two years working for the enemy and realizing that Party Poison was right all along, Buckley Jonestown put on a tinted black helmet and an identity that he wore to hide himself from the world and his old friend. Buckley Jonestown may have considered saying something then- perhaps at least on pen and paper- but he figured that ship had sailed. After the way they parted ways, and after all the evil he had helped develop and spread, Buckley figured there wasn't much to talk about anyways.

Party Poison stood in front of the mirror the next day and found himself feeling the same way Buckley had all those years ago when he first left Better Living; trapped between the world of his enemy and a world of slip shot possibilities that life as a Killjoy offered. He saw that the Better Living logo had been branded into his left wrist and the sight sickened him so much that he was compelled to reach for a blunt knife from the kitchen drawer and cut it out. But it was all too overwhelming when he processed the rest of his image staring back at him in the glass, so all he could do was lean against the mirror and hang his head in silence. Where the gunshot had blown a hole the side of his jaw was now a metal plate that was bolted into his flesh. In the back of his neck, a row of computer input docs sat; red, yellow and white. Plugged into them were long wires that led through his flesh and into his spine. His right shoulder showed the beginnings of a robotic arm implant; a slick looking black panel with a glowing LED light. He wondered how he might have looked if Bloodshot and Skyrocket hadn't found him. He wondered about all the evil he might have caused should Better Living have stolen his mind and body forever. It had taken just three days to do this much damage… what would another three have done?

"All that thinking will just drive you insane," Bloodshot said as she walked into the quiet room that as once Kobra Kid's. Party Poison turned to face her. "Take it from a person with a little bit of experience…"

Party Poison smiled weakly, looking at Bloodshot through the mirror. He thought for awhile, then said; "I always thought that when I found out who I was- what my real name was… I'd suddenly have all the answers." He ran a hand through his red hair. "But the name Johnny Kennedy Jett sounds so strange to me; like it was never really my own." He sighed, "Now there are just more questions; and more images of death and decay to add to a sick collage of others. The song's the same- I still have no idea who I am," He said.

"Well," Bloodshot began, "If it makes you feel any better, a wise man once told me that it's not about who you are," She smiled, folding her arms as she leant against the wall. "It's about who you're supposed to be."

Party Poison smirked and he turned around as Bloodshot approached. She handed him his yellow mask and after a moment's thought, he took it. He stared down at it in his hands. It was tattered and tearing at the sides, smothered with spots of rust coloured stains; a sad little relic from a former life. Party Poison; Fabulous Killjoy; dead… it was a thought that still refused to sink in. "Sounds like fool's words," Poison finally said.

"There's a fine line between the two," Bloodshot shrugged. Her hands reached up to hold his gently. He looked up and they fell into eye contact. "You don't have to put it on," Bloodshot said. "I know you probably feel like it'll just take you backwards," She smiled softly; comfort for a broken man. "I just wanted to remind you that you had a dream," She said. "And that a lot of other people believed in it too… in fact, they still do,"

Poison leaned forward and hugged her tightly. She took a moment, but eventually responded to it, smiling against his shoulder. "Thank you," He said, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He pulled away from her to put the mask on, a glimmer of hope flooding back into his soul. When he turned, he saw Buckley standing at the door, filled with remorse that overflowed into his expression. Party Poison stepped towards his old friend and embraced him too. "I couldn't have gotten this far without you, Skyrocket," He said.

When they parted, Skyrocket reached for his pad of paper and pencil. He scribbled out a note and held it out; "It is Buckley now."

Poison grinned.

"Well, Fun Ghoul's not going to be happy about that," Party Poison chuckled and Buckley beamed. "You know," The Killjoy leader added, "It finally makes sense why you guys never got along,"

Buckley smirked.

_Ksch…_

They turned around quickly at the sound of a buzzing radio. Grace ran in, her helmet in hand and huffing for breath. "Dr. Death Defying is on the radio," Grace announced. "He said he was going to talk about poppa!"


	16. Chapter 16

1**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**FRANKLY MY DARLING, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN**

Dr. Death Defying wasn't a guiltless man; he had made many mistakes in his life. Some of his wrongdoings and misadventures cost him the use of his legs, and others lost him a fair few friends. A life outside the golden gates of the capitalist world of Better Living was a hard one; any Killjoy could've told you that… but for Dr. Death Defying, the ratio between bad days and tolerable ones weighed up badly. After so many years of dodging armed law enforcers and risking his life on a daily basis to get word out to Killjoys on Better Living operations, Dr. Death Defying grew a pretty big chip on his shoulder for the rough and thick hide of skin he was wearing. That's when the trouble really started; and that's when he started to feel like maybe he deserved a few more free passes out of death than the rest of the mercenaries out there.

Genevieve was one of the many who went down in flames instead of him… Freddy Fastpants was another. For awhile, Dr. Death Defying could live with the guilt, even as it choked his good and pure heart underneath. But all that stopped when Party Poison reminded him of his feeble rank in the food chain topped by Better Living. No matter how many other nobodies he took out, things weren't going to change- he was still going to be a nobody.

_What was it he said? I would've taken the bullet._

Party Poison was a better man that he could've ever been, and Dr. Death Defying realized that one hot, straining day in the outskirts of the California desert; miles away from all the hubbub of Battery City. He looked through his research notes that he pulled out from a printer on his transmission desk, listening to a Misfits song that bounced off the walls in the background. "Parade day, huh," He muttered to himself, "As good a day as any I guess." A darkness that once lurked at the door was now hanging over him in full force, threatening to consume him. He took in a breath to calm himself, bracing himself for a plan that he had penned and that was slowly unfolding as his favourite Misfits song blared in the background; "Where Eagles Dare".

Quietly, Dr. Death Defying wheeled over to his microphone and flicked a few switches. The circuit boards lit up and a high pitched squeal of feedback filled the room for a moment. He hit a button, and then reached for a drawer to his left. Pulling it open, he took out an old service revolver; an antique by today's standards. He put it in his lap and leaned in to the microphone.

"That was Where Eagles Dare by the very rambunctious gods of death and punk rock themselves: the Misfits…" Dr. Death Defying spoke lyrically into his old fashioned microphone. He took a breath and his tone shifted- it sounded almost heavy and ominous even though he continued to try and keep up a cheery tempo in his voice. "Good afternoon all you pretty young things; all you very colourful little gun slingers and all you anti-matter for the empty masses- have you heard that today's parade day in Battery City?"

Party Poison, Bloodshot, Buckley and Grace stood around a small, beat up transmission radio at the safe house, listening intently. Party Poison shot a look to Bloodshot who looked equally surprised to hear that a parade was in town.

"That's right, all the clowns and cars and oversized mascots are out to rip right into your chests and pull your hearts out," Dr. Death Defying said. "The band's a playin' and the dancers are a dancing, which I guess must mean that the fat lady must be a singin' too,"

In the main strip of Battery City, deep in downtown, the parade begun with a bang. Confetti rained down and citizens cheered happily, applauding as a band marched out first, followed by a fleet of white Cadilacs bearing the Better Living logo on their hoods. Mascots in oversized animal heads walked the streets, waving at children and juggling Better Living brand products. An oversized blue mouse walked past a gawking little girl whose eyes were filled with so much awe her little blonde head could've exploded. The mascot juggled bottles of Better Living brand Ritalin and tossed one to her with a happy guffaw.

_The Ritalin of America…_

"But now for the real news of the hour, on the hour- because I promised to talk about this earlier…" Dr. Death Defying trailed off for a moment, and then sighed heavily. "I let down a few of my friends… and by doing so, I've let down a fair number of you," He said. "It's been a hard road friends, and it's been such a long journey too- long enough for an old, sad man to forget his priorities… and to forget how God damned useless these old bones really are,"

Party Poison flexed his hand, his shoulder panel coming to life for a moment, then dying out.

"Jet Star… Fun Ghoul… Kobra Kid," Dr. Death Defying read out, "Party Poison…" He paused, for a shaky breath, "I've let them down, all of them… especially Poison who is unfortunately…" He trailed off once more.

In her all white lab, Little Misfortune looked up from her microscope and to her Hello Kitty radio. She moved towards it quickly and turned up the volume.

"I have a request… to all of you who are listening today," Dr. Death Defying said. "To all you crash queens and motivators, I need you to listen up and get ready to make some noise- noise so loud it'll throw the parade right off its course. At four o'clock today they're planning to execute three Killjoys somewhere in the heart of Battery City… after all, isn't a noisy little parade the perfect time for mass muder? They will have highly trained and heavily armed officers, and they will have Dracula boys- even mean old Dr. Daddy Death will be there,"

Korse paced in his room, a silhouette against the view of Battery City just outside his large windows. Miss Ophelia walked in. "Sir," She said, "It appears that radio deejay has word on the executions." Korse looked up, shocked, and hurriedly followed her out the door.

"You know the time, and you know the rhyme, so all you gotta do is run," Dr. Death Defying said. "You can stop it from happening, and I ask all of you to get up on your fiery steeds and put an end to the heartache once and for all. Keep the body count out there even and don't be shy,"

Korse looked over his transmission board and hit a few buttons. Dr. Death Defying voice belted out of the speakers and Korse hit the table with his fist angrily, "That fool!" He shouted. "We had a deal! No word of this was meant to leak into the airwaves!"

"Alright, Children," Dr. Death Defying sighed heavily. His hand reached down to his gun and his fingers curled around it tightly. He put a hand to his head, "The lights are out and the party's over… It's time for me: Doctor D to start running and say goodbye. The pigs are probably after me as they speak, and I know they'll keep chasing me forever, and they won't quit…"

Party Poison and Bloodshot packed a beat up truck with weapons, Buckley in the driver's seat. Grace stared out into the horizon with a hand up to shield her eyes.

"And I know you're gonna miss me… So I'll leave you with this." Dr. Death Defying spoke slowly. "You know that big ball of radiation we call the sun? Well it'll burst you into flames if you stay in one place too long… That is if the static don't get you first,"

Little Misfortune's lab was empty, her radio still playing.

A group of colourfully clad motorcyclists climbed aboard their equally vibrant schemed vehicles and sped off down a long desert road; headed for Battery City that loomed in the distance.

"So remember even if you're dusted, you may be gone, but out here in the desert your shadow lives on without you," Dr. Death Defying said. "This is Korse Defying…" His hand fastened around the gun. "Signing off…"

Party Poison glanced at the radio as their truck bolted down the asphalt. An instrumental version of the Star Spangled Banner started playing. In the Killjoy's mind, he heard the lyrics too.

_Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light  
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?_

A group of three young Killjoys ran out of a diner, watching as the group of motorcycle riding Killjoys sped past. The young things; aged from about 19 to 22 jumped up and cheered, heading towards their van.

_Whose broad stripes and bright stars thru the perilous fight,  
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming_?

The parade in Battery City roared on, a marching band stomping the streets and chiming in with their own rendition of the National Anthem.

_And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,  
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there._

A Dracula boy ran into Korse's office, holding a notice for his master to read. Korse snatched it and looked down at a typed out memo below a Better Living letter head. It simply read; "You will report to the headquarters at once on suspicion of carrying out dangerous activities without the authorization of a member of the Better Living head office." It was signed: "The Boss".

Suffice to say, Korse didn't like what he read, for he tore the memo into a million pieces.

_Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?_

Dr. Death Defying hung over his transmission board as the final notes played. In the lead up to the next verse, he felt that the suspense was more than he could take, so he decided to end his patriotic transmission a little quicker than anticipated. _After all,_ he thought to himself, _why keep singing when your mind's already made up and your country's already a steadfast sinking ship?_

Silently, he lifted up the gun, pointed it at his head… and pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

And that was that.

The radio transmission stretched into a long train of feedback that blared so loudly out of the speakers, it added to Korse's anguish. He slammed on a button and cut off he feed.

"Idiot!" Korse shouted angrily, at no one in particular. "Who the hell gets to say who I can and cannot so very poetically destroy with a rain of laser beams?"

He pulled his laser gun out of his holster then and shot the messenger. The Dracula boy fell to the ground, smoke escaping out of a gaping hole in his head. Deep down inside, Korse knew the why Better Living would be so sick to their stomach over the news that one of their sheriff deputies was about to go kill three people in their name… It wasn't because Better Living cared about these people; no, they were a dime a dozen and they weren't strangers to perpetuating the body count. No, they were just unhappy that Korse's little shenanigans had made it to broadcast radio… and there's nothing worse than your sweet little society of pawns hearing about this sort of thing.

_I guess you could say… it was frowned upon…_

Korse's plans had hit the airwaves, and now Better Living had to assess the damage and stop the news from spreading. Far be it from them to allow the bubbles of their cattle to burst and for them to realize that their leaders have them on a slaughter house conveyor belt. Korse knew that it would be only a matter of time before he was out of a job, out of luck and out of his mind. The clock was ticking.

"Sir, may I advise you that…"Ophelia began, but was stopped short by Korse pointing his gun straight for her face.

"No, Miss Ophelia," Korse snarled furiously, "No you shall not advise me on anything because I do not care for your words, or your company or your putrid existence…" He spat. "I have had a very long and tedious three days that was punctuated with news that my Phase Three V.A.M.P labs were broken into last night…" He gritted his teeth- it was a wound far too fresh for him to be talking about just yet. "The only thing you should busy yourself with doing right now, Miss Ophelia, is helping me ensure that those Killjoys are in body bags within the hour."

"Yes sir," She replied, quickly heading for the door, "I will organize a vehicle,"

Korse slumped into his chair and thought for awhile, his eyes drifting over to the carcass of yet another useless servant to his needs for bloodshed and torture. He clenched his fists and felt his blood boil.

_What's the use of all this rage if there was no way to spend it?_

Korse spun his chair around again and looked to a screen just in front of him; almost lost in the maze of others. In the box was a televised live feed from a dark cell that housed three injured and miserable looking Killjoys. They sat quietly on the ground, huddled up against the walls with their heads hung in perilous defeat. The heart wrenching sight was just enough to lift Korse's spirits again, and a small devious smile lit up his face. He let out a soothing sigh and tightened his hand around his laser pistol.

"Where ever you are, Party Poison," He breathed, "Johnny Kennedy Jett…" He smirked, "I suggest you keep… running…"


	17. Chapter 17

1**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**I'VE BEEN LIVING LIKE I WAS DEAD, BUT NOW'S THE TIME TO LIVE LIKE I'M DYING**

Fun Ghoul ruminated about his life. There were already a million sins and missed opportunities on his list, and it kept growing as the hours ticked by. He looked around the dimly lit room made of concrete and saw that Jet Star and Kobra Kid were asleep. Fun Ghoul wished he could fall asleep too, but something inside him had been triggered to snap him awake every time he tried. Every single time he drifted close to the edge where conscious lost to subconscious, he saw an image of Party Poison hitting the floor and gasping for breath. He heard the hoarse breathing; so sharp and urgent, and he saw the blood seeping out from a burn hole in his neck, tricking over his skin and hitting the marble floors below. The colour of his hair… it was everywhere.

There was no peace for Fun Ghoul, and the man who usually had a way of seeing the silver lining on the darkest days finally met his quota of garish sights and dead ends. He was ready to give up. He had signed away his positive thinking, and in its place a dark and torturous river of self hatred and forgotten failures came rushing in. For awhile he wished his life had been different. He wished he had fallen in love with someone who had the capacity and the patience to love him back, and he wished he had taken the time to find himself. He even wished he had finished college, settled down, gotten married… got a house and paid taxes and mortgages… got a dog and twin girls and a station wagon... maybe even picked up guitar and joined an underground post punk band. Of course, all of that was pointless wishful thinking of course… especially in Better Living's new world.

"Ghoul?" Jet Star murmured and Fun Ghoul looked up to his friend who was soaked in sweat from dealing with the pain in his bandaged up shoulder.

"Hey Star, how you holding up," Ghoul asked.

"Okay," He muttered in reply, forcing himself to sit up and trying very hard not to grimace as he did so. "I'm kinda worried about Kobra Kid though… doesn't he usually twitch a little in his sleep? He's been still for a long while,"

Fun Ghoul looked over at Kobra Kid who did in fact look very still and way too peaceful on the floor. He had a bandage around his shoulder too, and some crimson spots were seeping to the surface of the white gauze. "Kid?" Ghoul murmured. "Kobra Kid…"

Fun Ghoul got up and walked over to his friend. He placed hand to his neck hesitantly, worrying about what the answer might be.

"He's breathing," Ghoul observed, "He's still running in there… just out cold I guess,"

"We need transfusions," Jet Star said, "We can't go on like this… Kobra Kid definitely can't,"

Fun Ghoul went silent, "I think that's the point, Star," He said, "They're probably just wasting time and hoping we'll die by the time the paperwork gets filled out," he sighed. "We're on the exterminate list- hell, we head the bill… we don't matter to any of them,"

"I c-can't… I can't die," Jet Star murmured. "Not like this… not when Grace's out there on her own," He let out a shaky breath. "I hope she's okay… God I hope she's okay…"

"She'll be alright, Jet Star," Fun Ghoul said. "She's a pretty strong kid, and we've got allies who are still out there. If she got out of Battery City alright she would've found her way back to Little Misfortune or Skyrocket,"

There was a moment of silence then. Kobra Kid moved a little, finally showing signs of life. Jet Star watched him for awhile then looked up at the ceiling, trying hard to break the surface of his overpowering grief. "Poison's dead," he said.

Fun Ghoul looked to him and nodded hesitantly. "I keep seeing it happen," He said. "I don't think I'll ever sleep..."

"I used to think that death was the only way out of this mess… this fucked up little corner we've worked ourselves into," Jet Star said, sounding bitter, "I used to think that it didn't matter, live or die- at least Roselyn would be there… at least the running and the bloodshed would've stopped… Rosebud… how long was I going to hold onto that and how long was I going to keep making sure that Grace believed she was still out there?" He shook his head, an ironic smile on his face. "I can't believe I did all of that- perpetuated a long list of lies and hoped that by some magnificent accident that I would be dead before the punch line hit." He looked at his bandages and his torn clothes. "Now I see myself here, at the end… waiting for la bella muerte to set in and I'm hoping- just hoping that I get to see my kid again…" He said. "I still don't have the answers. I still haven't made a difference… not for myself, not for my country and not for my daughter…"

"That's not true," Fun Ghoul said with a sad frown, "You make a difference for Grace everyday… hell, you teach her to believe in herself, and to fight back. If my dad was still around… well… I would've hoped he was a lot like you," Fun Ghoul smiled weakly. Jet Star smiled back. "And deep down inside I think Grace knows about Roselyn," He added. "She's a strong kid, Jet Star- and she's smart too. Maybe all this time she's just been playing along to help _you_ believe."

Jet Star stared up at Fun Ghoul, his expression dropping. Maybe Fun Ghoul had a point… maybe he was even right.

Suddenly the door beeped and slid open slowly. "Away from the doors, away from the doors!" A voice called out to them and an armed guard walked in, pointing a gun at them. Miss Ophelia walked in and nodded at them, "Men," She said in that strange vapid way of hers, "Follow me and the guards… you are being transported to a different holding facility,"

"What?" Fun Ghoul said, scowling. In his head he was calculating the possibility of taking out the guard and escaping. Too bad for that laser rifle… and too bad for Jet Star's bad arm and Kobra Kid's unconscious state.

"Pick up your friend and come with me now," Ophelia ordered. "The trucks are waiting for us."

"Do what the lady says, you little bitch," The officer barked, pointing his gun at Ghoul who had no choice but to give in. Fun Ghoul wasn't a fan of being told what to do- with a gun pointed to his head no less, and found an overwhelming urge to punch the uniform clad man in the face.

"Ghoul," Jet Star said, "Come on, let's just pick up Kobra Kid and do what they say."

Jet Star moved towards Kobra Kid and slung an arm over his shoulder. Ghoul complied, though he continued to entertain thoughts of somehow breaking out and breaking the guard's arm. "Have you got a plan?" Jet Star asked him quietly as they picked Kobra Kid off the ground.

"Not a one," Fun Ghoul replied. "Well, not one that has us leaving with our lives still intact anyway,"

"Come on, ladies!" The officer sneered.

There are many dates, many days and many events that have and will go down in history. But there are few that will ever match up to the fame and infamy of that faithful day when the angels came down to Battery City. The weather was perfect; scorching hot like hell itself. The stage was set with a parade that was really kicking into gear when an old beat up Ford rolled into town.

Bloodshot and Grace sat in the front seats of the truck and looked out at the crowded streets of Battery City. It was a mess of people, confetti and brass instruments. A mascot walked past, casting its reflection against their windows as it danced along with some children following behind it. Grace gawked, in awe, "Wow!" She said, "It's so pretty,"

"I know," Bloodshot smirked, "Isn't it horrible?"

_Ksch…_

The car transmission radio came to life. "Come in, Bloodshot, come in," Party Poison's voice filtered through the speakers. Bloodshot reached for the radio and held it over her mouth.

"We read you loud and clear, hombre,"

"See anything?"

"A lot of the same, Poison," Bloodshot replied with a sigh, "Saw an armed bulletproof truck sail through the crowd earlier though- think it's them?"

"Could be… saw one pull up to ground zero,"

_Ksch…_

"Stay low, Poison," Bloodshot said. "I'll come in after you,"

"I'm sitting pretty," She heard Poison smirk. "Say, how much does a bottle of Ritalin go for these days?"

Bloodshot smiled.

"What're we gunna do, Bloodshot?" Grace asked worriedly, rubbing her tired eyes.

"We're gunna get your daddy back, Grace," She said, taking out her pistol. "Sit tight, kiddo… it's going to be one hell of a ride."

Korse followed a group of Dracula boys out the door, choosing to disregard a radio call from his higher-ups; "Korse, please report to the Board of Representatives at Better Living Main Building now, I repeat…"

He just grinned darkly and left the room, hungry for a little long-awaited revenge. If only he had swallowed his pride for just a couple of minutes, he might have noticed something a little strange on one of his monitors. In a live video feed of the empty courtyard in the centre of the Better Living buildings- just to the left of the building he was in- a man in a blue racing jacket, stone washed gray jeans and an oversized mascot head moved across the pavement hurriedly. On the back of its overgrown blue mouse head, were the words: "Ritalin of America".

Fun Ghoul and Jet Star sat down in the back of a Better Living riot van, the unconscious Kobra Kid between them. They watched as officers marched towards their own service vehicles and Fun Ghoul managed a deviant smile. He turned to the officer and Miss Ophelia who were sitting opposite them. "Geez guys, one of us has a shot arm and a bad eye- and the other's far away in coma land… you honestly think all this is necessary?" He chuckled, raising his handcuffed hands to wave them at the officer. "I'm flattered… seriously,"

"Shut up short stack, or I'll empty this into your fucking head," The officer retorted, waving his rifle in Ghoul's direction.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Ghoul scoffed.

"Ghoul…" Jet Star mumbled in protest, trying to stop Fun Ghoul from going on one of his furious rants.

"But you can't, and ain't that a kick in the balls? Bet your supervisor would have your head if you let any one of us die on transit," Fun Ghoul said.

"I said shut up you f-"

"Boys," Korse's voice broke up their spat. They turned and saw the demented scientist looking at them with an eerily calm smile, his hands behind his back. "Nice to see you've settled in nicely," He grinned.

"Where the hell are you taking us?" Ghoul demanded.

"Oh nowhere in particular…" He said. "And everywhere all at once…" He chuckled. Fun Ghoul and Jet Star exchanged glances before shooting confused expressions back to Korse. "As much as I would like to end your sad little lives with the simple pull of a trigger, I would only deeply regret the inability of using you to prove to the others out there who share your… passion… for chaos… that their lives as Killjoys can only end one way," He took out his laser gun and cocked it, "And that's at the mercy of a pretty little hollow point like this one,"

"You're gunna make an example of us?" Jet Star said, "That would never work… there are so many out there and they will never stop-"

"Oh Jet Star, I believe they will…" Korse smirked. "Nothing puts the fear of God into someone like a little heavy handed torture and an execution worthy of martyrs," He laughed. "Of course we'll have to take you on a little road trip first- just to make sure you're out of Big Brother's eye line… and then you're all mine for the skinning," He said. "They'll be a little upset at first, but then they'll realize that these publicised executions were _important…_"

Fun Ghoul, at the end of his tether, let his lack of willpower take the wheel for a split second; he spat at Korse. The doctor flinched for a moment, eyes snapping shut as it hit him in the face. "Not without a fight you bastard!" He stood up suddenly and kicked Korse in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

Quickly, the officer in the van jumped up and grabbed the back of Fun Ghoul's jacket, throwing him down onto the floor of the riot van. He pointed the gun at his head and barked; "One more move, mother fucker! One more move, I dare you!"

"Fuck you!" Fun Ghoul screamed and the officer kicked him in the ribs.

"Ghoul!" Jet Star called out, "Fuck's sake!"

Suddenly, a siren wailed in the background. Korse, furious as he could get, looked up at the sound. "What the hell?" The officer murmured. Korse looked to him with wide-eyes.

"Pack up the car and move out!" He shouted. Just as he got to his feet again, there was a chorus of screams. He turned.

"Sir, something's happening at the parade!" An officer yelled out as he approached.

"Well deal with it!" Korse commanded. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and black smoke rose up from a place just beyond the buildings. More screams. "Get on the road!" Korse shouted. "Get on the road!"

"What the hell's going on out there?" Jet Star murmured just as Kobra Kid moved a little and muttered in his sleep. The riot van doors shut and the officer gave Ghoul another kick in the ribs. He groaned in pain and spat out a mouthful of blood. The van started up and pulled out.

Grace and Bloodshot watched as the parade dispersed; the crowds running in panic as the side of a glass building disintegrated into flames and debris. A fleet of cars and motorcycles tore through the streets, some crashing through parade floats and splitting a line through the marching band. "It's Little Misfortune!" Grace cheered, pointing to a girl in Japanese school uniform who was straddling a dirt bike as it burned rubber through the chaos. She had a pink Hello Kitty helmet on.

"The Killjoys are here," Bloodshot said, amazed.

_Ksch…_

"Bloodshot, come in, Bloodshot!" Poison spoke through the radio.

"Poison!" Bloodshot shouted into the radio, "They're here! Every last one out there!"

"Perfect," Poison said, and it sounded like he was grinning. "You know what to do, Bloodshot,"

Bloodshot smiled and revved up the engine. "Right…" She said. "Let's make some noise…"


	18. Chapter 18

1**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**WHEN THE ANGELS CAME DOWN TO BATTERY CITY**

The heat was rising off the asphalt like shockwaves, and the streets cleared out to accommodate the motorcade of armed trucks and police motorcycles. The crowds of citizens, still bewildered and horrified after seeing the Killjoys descend upon them, watched as the line of official vehicles passed by. The black and white fleet looked menacing enough to make them cower and rush towards home, but now hiding in the dark alleys were a different kind of threat – one that even the Better Living officers were afraid of.

"Where the hell did they go?" Korse grimaced, keeping an eye out from his seat next to the armoured truck's driver who looked sick to his stomach with horror.

"It's looking clear, sir," The driver replied, gulping. "Must've run off or something,"

A young girl with a peacock feathered mask stepped out of the shadows in a narrow alley way, a laser gun in hand. She looked down and saw a beheaded mascot- the human head was still intact however, and the man looked decidedly unconscious. "Motorcade's on the move," She spoke into her wrist watch. _Ksch…_ Behind her, Little Misfortune and a group of other Killjoys appeared, all holding their laser guns up and ready for battle. They filed in like SWAT team members.

"Copy," came the reply through the wrist watch.

"Killjoys" Little Misfortune said through her Hello Kitty motorcycle helmet in Japanese. "The road ahead of us is filled with danger… but be steadfast and strong…"

The cocked their weapons.

Back in the truck, Korse looked around with an unconvinced expression on his pallid face. "Hmmm…"

_Screeeeeech!_

Suddenly, a renegade Ford truck pulled out in front of the motorcade, making motorcycles break suddenly, officers falling off their vehicles that carried on down the road without them- before ultimately crashing into buildings and lamp posts. "Shit!" The truck driver yelped.

"What the hell?" Korse said. He squinted and thought he saw the person inside point a finger upwards to the sky. He paused, looking closer and allowing his vision to focus. "Bloodshot?"

Crash_!_

The truck swayed back and forth on its wheels, almost toppling over. The driver hit the emergency break and looked around wildly. "What the fuck!"

In the back of the truck, Ghoul and Jet Star gaped at the sight before them. The Trans-Am was lodged right through the ceiling of the bullet proof truck, the bonnet resting up against the officer's chest who screamed in pain as he writhed around- pinned between the car and the wall of the truck. "Shit!" he groaned in pain, "Ahh!"

Fun Ghoul and Jet Star took the chance to leap into action, leaving behind the still unconscious Kobra Kid who slumped into the seat without Jet Star's shoulder to prop him up. Angrily, Fun Ghoul jumped up and kicked the officer right in the groin. "How does it taste, captain bitch?" Fun Ghoul yelled, laughing as Jet Star grabbed Ophelia and made her unlock his handcuffs. If she was capable of showing fear, she would've been in tears.

_If only it wasn't for that lobotomy… Korse sure works wonders…_

Finally, the man inside the car kicked the windshield into a thousand glass shards that rained down on the poor Scarecrow officer. Buckley slid out across the bonnet and kicked the officer in the face, rendering him unconscious. He looked to Ghoul and Star silently, and they stared back at the blond mystery man with raised eyebrows. Wordlessly, Buckley just reached for the officer's laser rifle and shot the door open.

"Doctor!" An officer called out as several of them left their vehicles to fire at the Trans-Am that was lodged through the top of the truck. Korse peered out at the chaos, feeling an unshakable fury overtake him.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" He shouted as he finally exited the truck, his face turning a hot shade of red.

Suddenly, a rain of Killjoys poured out of the alley ways and streets around them, circling the broken down motorcade and firing nonstop. "Fire! Fire!" An officer called out to his fellow man as he turned to take aim at a woman in a yellow cat suit who was swinging a samurai sword. Before he could pull the trigger however, Little Misfortune appeared behind him, grabbed his head and snapped his neck with a terrible click. He fell lifeless to the ground and she giggled girlishly as she took out her pistol.

"Oops!" She chirped.

Korse pulled out his laser pistol and began to shoot blindly into the crowd. A couple of Killjoys crashed to the ground. Suddenly, his gun was shot out his hand. He turned around quickly and saw Bloodshot standing on top of a service squad car with her gun pointed at him, a menacing grin on her face. She looked so filled with power and exquisite darkness as a breeze blew through her dark hair. She was… _intoxicating._

"UV Levels at 40%, seek shade."

"Bloodshot…" Korse murmured, stepping backwards. He tripped over a carcass of a fallen comrade and fell onto his back.

Bloodshot jumped off the car and stepped towards him slowly, her part robotic hand flexing around the trigger of her gun. "Korse," She grinned. "Sorry I haven't been at work for the past month or so," She said, cocking her AK99 automatic laser pistol and sliding the power bar so it charged up with a low whirring sound. "I had some… personal grievances to attend to,"

"You can't kill me," Korse smirked in response, side glancing towards a stray knife on the ground beside him. Bloodshot was too furious to notice. "I'm the only one who knows who you really are," He said, that eerie sense of calm returning in the dark tone of his voice. "If you shoot me, you'll never know,"

Bloodshot faltered for a second, her expression dropping. "Does it matter?" She said quietly, taking her eyes off him for just a second.

"You tell me," Korse said. Suddenly, he flung the knife at her. It knocked the gun out of her hand and sliced a cut through her palm.

"Fuck!" She whimpered.

"Damage to right appendage… UV Levels…" the robotic voice chimed in.

Before Bloodshot could move towards her gun again, Korse was on his feet and snatched her by the wrist. He pulled her towards him without warning, their faces inches apart. She stared up at him wide-eyed, and found herself locked in a gaze up at his red-circled black eyes.

_Suddenly, it all made sense…_

Bloodshot was thrown back into a memory that took place years ago. So many years ago that the timeline of her life no longer made sense… so many years ago… and she was still nineteen.

It was 2000, and Korse had grabbed her in the same way he was doing so now. She stared up at him, shocked and disgusted at the sight of him. He was in his early thirties then, and she shuddered at his unwanted touch on the wrist of her hand. She glanced back towards the ballroom around them where she saw people give them split second looks of disapproval. She stared up at him and heard him say; "Dance with me… my Crimson Dahlia."

"No!" She replied angrily and pulled away from him- the same way she did in 2019, in the middle of a battlefield near the edge of Battery City. "You!" She said. "You took me!" She felt sick.

"You were so happy with me," He said, smiling. "Until the accident… and then you changed,"

"_You_ changed me, you freak!" She spat, throwing a punch at him which he deflected with an arm. He punched her in the face and she staggered backwards. Her nose began to bleed and her robotics began to spout more complaints. "You turned me into a fucking monster!" She screamed in agony, trying to kick him- but he moved away too quickly. He knew all her moves far too well.

"I made you beautiful," He replied. "I made you… perfect." He kicked her to the ground.

"Ugh!" Bloodshot groaned and jumped towards him. Unfortunately for the cyborg vampire, Korse was far too quick. He punched her hard and snapped the wires that linked to the side of her eye right off. She fell to the ground, blood streaming down her head as short bursts of electricity emitted from the broken charge. Her vision blurred.

"Come, come, my Crimson Dahlia," Korse cooed, snapping off his bloodstained gloves and throwing them to the ground as he stepped towards her. "I'll fix you up…"

Suddenly, a Ritalin bottle flew into the back of his bald head. He looked up quickly, spinning around with a hand held to the base of his skull- a confused expression on his face. He was met with a man wearing an oversized blue mouse mascot head- and he was pointing a white laser gun in his direction.

"You kids are getting more and more flamboyant these days," Korse sneered. His eyes drifted to the man's blue racing jacket where a hole had been made to accommodate for a square panel that protruded out of his arm. A wicked smile grew on his face. "Ah," He said. "Party Poison… how are the upgrades treating you?"

Poison took off the mascot head, his gun still pointed at Korse. His sweat drenched red hair hung over his face and he tossed his head to get a better look at his killer. He smiled back. "Why don't you come over here and find out?"

Elsewhere in the chaos of corpses and Killjoys, Fun Ghoul and Jet Star guarded Kobra Kid who moved and murmured in his sleep like he was suffering a terrible fever. They waited by a van, shielded from the gunfight. "What the hell is going on out there?" Fun Ghoul said, gritting his teeth and strangling the gun in his hands as he wished for an opportunity to join the bloodshed. He looked down at Kobra Kid, and wondered for a split second if CPR would do the trick. "Ah fuck…" He shook his head at the traumatizing thought. "I hate you, Kobra!"

"Take it easy, Ghoul," Jet Star muttered, the pain in his arm debilitating him. "Man… where did all these Killjoys come from anyway?"

"Poppa!" A little voice chirped. Jet Star could barely believe it, and his eyes flew wide open as he watched little Grace running towards him. Little Misfortune followed behind the little 7 year old, keeping her eyes peeled for Better Living officers.

"Grace!" Jet Star cheered as his daughter fell into his arms. Even though his body was still reeling in pain, Jet Star found the ability to smile as he held the anchor of his world tightly. "Oh my God, Grace…" He chuckled a little, his eyes filling up with tears.

"I did what you said, poppa," She said, nuzzling into her father's shoulder. "I kept running,"

"Good girl… you're a good girl," Jet Star cooed as he kissed his daughter's head. "I… I thought I was never going to see you again," He said, letting out a shaky sigh.

Grace looked up at her father, their eyes locking. "I knew I'd see you again, poppa," She smiled. "I believed." She said, and Jet Star couldn't help but smile. Fun Ghoul was right, Grace knew a lot more and bore a lot more than he gave her credit for. Who knew that all along, Grace was the one holding him together and helping him move on.

_Who knew hope rested in so small a thing…_

"Bloodshot found her," Little Misfortune said as she crouched down and took off her Hello Kitty motorcycle helmet. Fun Ghoul tried not to look as she sat in a compromising position for so short a skirt. "Is Kobra okay?" She asked worriedly.

"Yeah, just miles away in la la land," Fun Ghoul remarked.

"He needs a blood transfusion," Jet Star said still holding on to Grace. "We both do… but he's just not holding up at all."

Little Misfortune put a hand over his forehead with a sad look on her face. "It is okay, Kobra… Poison's going to get us all out of here."

"Poison?" Fun Ghoul blurted.

"Yes," Little Misfortune replied, looking up at him with a smile. "Have you not heard?"

Party Poison and Korse stood opposite each other- just a few feet away from a false move that would trip them both down the rabbit hole into certain death. As the sun dipped in the horizon, Bloodshot's robotics muttered another complaint that she ignored as she tried to stay lucid on the ground. She looked up at the blurry Mexican standoff before her; hope and despair staring at each other in the eye.

_If looks could kill… this fight would be over by now._

Party Poison cocked his gun, making Korse smirk as he finally broke eye contact to glance down at the ground and shake his head. "Dear old Sergeant Killjoy… you were always a very strong willed son of a bitch,"

"For a guy who doesn't know jack about me," Poison spat, "You sure hit the nail on the head right there,"

"Oh I know… enough… about you," Korse said, his tone dripping with malicious intent. "I know a lot actually… all your little ticks and mind games and the way you think… I know you couldn't stand who you were before… but now, wow- now the gates of self hatred have been busted open thanks to all that wonderful Better Living machinery your body's playing host to..." He snarled, "All those years ago, we took you in, fed, you, cleaned you up, inside out... you were going to be perfect, like the rest of my beautiful children of the damned. You ran away just to come right back to the start again... look at you Poison," His eyes darted to the Better Living brand on Poison's wrist. "We're practically family..."

"It doesn't make me one of you, Korse- I'll always be a Killjoy." Party Poison snarled. "You can brand me, but you're not gunna drive me to the glue factory."

"Why would I," Korse scoffed. "You've been doing such a good job doing that yourself… you and your friends… you and your family- your parents- huh…" he laughed. "You should've heard your mother scream, Poison… that helpless little bitch… I'll be on your side- she said, I'll do anything, she pleaded… but oh it was too late,"

"You're a liar," Poison snapped, raising his gun a little higher so it was aimed right for Korse's head. "That's all you work for- all you're about… lies!"

"Perhaps," Korse said, looking amuse. "But how on earth would you know, Poison? You don't even know your real name,"

"My name is Johnny Kennedy Jett," Poison said, his finger on the trigger and a hell bent fury in his eyes. "I was born in New Jersey to Patricia and Gunther Jett… and they did everything they could to save me when you animals dragged us into your sick world. And they died, like Freddy died… like I died… trying to throw a wrench in your fucked up little freak show." He said. "You told us to keep running, Korse… and guess what; we've never stopped… and now… well, now it's your turn," He smiled. "We all just move in circles, Korse… and then somehow, someway… we reach the end…" Korse's eyes widened and Party Poison took a breath. "Doesn't it depress you?"

He pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

Korse fell to the ground. "Ugh!" He groaned in pain, clutching his shoulder that was smoking. His waistcoat began to soak up the pooling blood. "Shit!" He grimaced. Bloodshot got up and together with Poison, they stared down at Better Living's best; writhing around on the ground like a wounded animal. Korse narrowed his eyes, "Do it," He spat. "Pull the trigger and waste me like you've been dying to do!"

"Can't do that," Poison said with a dark smile. "That'd be way too easy."

Suddenly, a fleet of Better Living helicopters flew over them, creating a whirlwind that blew through their hair. The Killjoys spread out, running from the blood soaked battlefield and getting on their vehicles in a hurry...

"Killjoys! Load up! Load up!"

Korse's expression dropped, and he looked horrified- a look that suited him well. "If there's anything the higher ups at Better Living hate worse than a pack of Killjoys…" Poison began. "I bet it's a worker bee who can't take orders,"

"N…n… no…" Korse muttered as the helicopters landed around them and more squad cars arrived on the scene. Buckley drove up towards them in the Ford truck with Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, Grace and Kobra Kid inside. "Wh-what… no! What am I going to do?" Korse said to himself, helplessly.

"Well, Korse…" Poison said just before he and Bloodshot ran towards the waiting car. "You can always keep running."

In a flash, they jumped into the car and sped away just as the authorities hit the scene. In agony, Korse screamed helplessly on the asphalt as officers ran up, their guns pointed at him.

"Face down! Face down!" An officer said and kicked him over so he was lying on his front on the road. He sniffed, trying hard to retain his composure but failing miserably. "Korse you are being charged with endangering the well being of Better Living by carrying out dangerous activities without proper authorization… do you understand?"

Korse gave no answer, and so the officer barked out his last line again. Still, the shaken mad man who had destroyed so many lives and reigned hell over so many families for so long… finally had nothing to say. He looked up and saw the big blue mouse mascot head staring back at him with big googly eyes. "No…" he murmured, then inhaled for a ear-splitting scream; "Nooooooooooo!"


	19. Chapter 19

1**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**EVERYBODY LOVES A HAPPY ENDING**

The Killjoys lost the squad cars on the open road, and before they knew it, they were heading down an empty strip of asphalt with nothing in sight but home. The arid planes of California never looked so inviting as they did now, and as the sun sank and the moon rose up to take its place, Party Poison finally breathed a sigh of relief. He looked to Buckley who gave him a small smile.

"That was something," Poison said quietly. "Who knew there were so many Killjoys out there…"

A fleet of bikes sped past them, and Killjoys waved back at the truck filled with exhausted soldiers of anarchy; the ones who started it all; the ones who paved the way to turning backs and twisting knives on a society that had forgotten how to flex its will power muscles. Poison waved back at the motorcyclists with a weak smile, giving them a little salute.

"Who knew there were so many out there who looked up to you," Bloodshot smiled from the backseat, her hand pressed to the side of her head where her wires had been short-circuited. "Ain't that something?"

"Yeah," Poison murmured as a soft smile graced his lips. "I guess so…"

"Sorry to break this up, but…" Fun Ghoul began, leaning up in his seat. He pointed his thumb in Buckley's direction, "Who the hell is this guy?"

A few days later, the fabulous Killjoys were getting ready to leave Freddy's old safe house. It was midday, but it was dark out as clouds gathered to shut out the scorching sun overhead. When Fun Ghoul peered out the window, it began to drizzle, and droplets crash collided with the window pane between him and the elements. "Looks like rain," He said with a small smile on his face.

"You're kidding me…" Jet Star scoffed, looking out the window with him. He had been out in the Californian for years, and had only seen it rain in the desert a handful of times. The older man had his arm in a sling, but was looking to be in better spirits and in better shape. The patch on his eye was off too; though he still felt a ghost shard of glass in there on occasion. He patted Grace on the head as she popped up to stare out the window as well.

"Poppa?" she said, looking up at her father who smiled down at her.

"Yeah, go ahead, kiddo!" Jet Star laughed and watched as Grace barely waited until the end of the sentence to bolt outdoors into the rain. Fun Ghoul and Jet Star shared a laugh as they watched Grace dance around in the backyard with the most glorious smile on her face. "I can't believe how quickly she just lights up like that," Jet Star said. "You were right, Ghoul," He chuckled, patting the other man on the shoulder. "He'll be alright."

"I always am," Fun Ghoul smirked. "About time you guys started giving me credit for that…"

They turned and saw Kobra Kid sitting alone in Little Misfortune's lab, his eyes cast towards an open Murder magazine. His shoulder was bandaged up, and gauze poked out from underneath the red singlet he wore. While Kobra Kid's physical injuries were doing a lot better now, he seemed to still be a little wounded in matters of the heart, and still struggled to string a sentence together whenever Little Misfortune was in the room. Fun Ghoul sighed and got up off his chair to walk towards his blue friend in red.

"Where are you going?" Jet Star asked.

"Gunna give my man here some advice on yet another facet of life I'm fluent in," Fun Ghoul announced proudly with a wink. Jet Star raised an eyebrow and Ghoul grinned back; "Love…"

Jet Star laughed.

"How's your arm?" Bloodshot asked, catching Party Poison looking down at it in the mirror. He was sitting on a bed in Freddy's old room where he had spent the last couple of days recuperating and staring listlessly up into the ceiling.

He looked up to Bloodshot who stood at the door and smiled, "It's okay I guess… it's the wires in my spine that feel the weirdest,"

"Ah, yes," Bloodshot said. "You get used to that, trust me…" She nodded knowingly. "And you've got a brilliant electronics engineer on hand to fix you up every time you need it,"

"Don't say that too loud," Poison chuckled, "We'll never hear the end of it."

"Right…" Bloodshot trailed off into thought again as Party Poison continued to pack his brown duffle bag that sat open on his bed. "Thank you, Poison," She said suddenly, breaking the silence. He turned to face her. "Really…" She sighed, "For everything,"

"You're the one who saved my life, Bloodshot," Poison replied. He ran his hand through his red hair and shrugged. "If you weren't there in time- this war would've been lost in no time."

"Yeah but… you saved mine too," She said. "And everyone elses…" She lowered her gaze to the floor. "For a long time there wasn't any hope… but now there is," She smiled. "I'm sorry I ever ran out on you guys…"

"Hey," Poison said quietly and stepped towards her, "That's old news," He said and pulled her into his arms. They embraced and she smiled through tear filled eyes. For all her otherworldliness, Bloodshot was still just nineteen; a petrified girl in a world that had grown up without her. He felt her fingers curl around his shoulder, and the way her body shuddered with a quiet sigh. If he didn't know any better, he would've said she was falling apart. "We'll always be here you know, no matter what," He said. He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"It's hard," She said softly, "I don't know how to wake up every morning without feeling that nagging feeling of worry and fear… it's like a routine I can't shake,"

"It gets easier," Poison said. "Trust me."

She smiled, and with a breath she asked; "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Poison looked up over her shoulder and saw Fun Ghoul talking excitedly with Kobra Kid who nodded and glanced towards Jet Star who stood beside them and chuckled. Grace suddenly burst in and shook her soaking wet hair all over the men like a rambunctious little puppy. They laughed and swatted at her playfully as the little seven year old giggled and ran around them in circles. They shared the kind of happiness that Party Poison never thought he'd see play out before him… at least not until he was six feet under and flying high.

Party Poison smiled and pulled away from Bloodshot to look down at her. He looked deep into her eyes; far past the military-bot exterior and down into a place where that scared little girl still existed. "Yeah," He smiled, and she smiled back. "Turns out it was here the whole time," He said. "Ain't that a funny thing?"

"It's always in the last place you look," Bloodshot shrugged and they chuckled.

"There's just a bounty on keeping it this way though," Poison said with a sigh. "But it's worth it… any five minute sliver of paradise is worth all the blood, sweat and tears…"

"Well that's what we've been fighting for," Bloodshot said. Poison nodded pensively.

"I'm sorry you never got to find out what your real name is…" Poison said after a short pause. "I'm sorry you never got to find out… you know, who you were…"

"There's plenty of time for that revelation," Bloodshot smiled weakly and Poison saw a flash of happiness on her face. He noticed that Fun Ghoul had helped her switch the Better Living insignias on her uniform to Killjoy arachnid logos. With a shaky breath she added; "At least now I know who I'm meant to be."

"Look alive, Killjoys!" Fun Ghoul cheered as he led the team out to the rain drenched outdoors where their new pride and joy was parked. Under the old petrol station awning, a slick, shiny and very souped up Chevrolet Camaro sat outside waiting for them. It was bright red with jet black racing stripes that looked almost metallic blue in the sunlight. Her rims were platinum and shone like a laser beam through glass. Party Poison stared at it and couldn't help but chuckle.

"You're a genius, Fun Ghoul," he laughed.

"I know!" Fun Ghoul said. "You're the second person to point that out today…"

"Hey now, I didn't say genius…" Jet Star scoffed as he walked over to put his bags into the booth. Fun Ghoul leaned against the car proudly and watched as Party Poison inspected the bonnet that bore a yellow Killjoy arachnid decal.

"What do you think, Poison?" Ghoul grinned. "She's a beauty right?"

"Sure is," Poison smiled. "Now hand over the keys…" Fun Ghoul laughed and tossed him the keys. "Attaboy," He smirked. "Shot gun?"

"Always," Fun Ghoul chuckled.

At the door, Kobra Kid waited around awkwardly for a glimmer of hope. But alas, there was only so much of the stress he could handle, and after fourty five near death experiences in his life, there was also so much of Fun Ghoul's earlier pep talk he could still remember.

_There was something about breathing…_

"Hi Kobra Kid," A happy little voice behind him greeted, making him jump. He spun around and saw Little Misfortune looking up at him with a grin.

_I guess you could say he panicked…_

Kobra Kid stared down at the 19 year old who stood at about five feet and six inches. She was dressed in a cute little school girl uniform with a white shirt and a small blue pleated skirt that matched a blue bow around her neck. Her black and white tights went all the way up to her thighs, and she wore ankle-high combat boots. Her black hair had a few pink streaks in her fringe. She was beautiful; everything Kobra Kid could have ever wanted, dreamt about and fantasized about introducing to his parents who were still living somewhere in the outskirts of Thailand.

_I guess you could say he panicked…_

Without a moment to consider otherwise, he blurted a phrase in Thai.

Little Misfortune cocked her head, confused.

Everyone else stared.

Fun Ghoul walked up behind Kobra Kid and in a not so hushed whisper quipped; "She's Japanese you dick…"

"I meant ah..." Kobra Kid blushed, "I like you..."

Little Misfortune's eyes widened and she grinned widely. Suddenly, she leapt into Kobra Kid's arms, pushing her lips onto his. Fun Ghoul raised his eyebrows, but he wasn't the only one who couldn't believe what was going on before him. Kobra Kid took almost ten seconds to compute that the girl he had been in love with for as long as they had known each other was kissing him… and he still didn't believe it on the ride home.

"Eww," Grace said, making a face as she buried her face in his father's jacket. Jet Star only chuckled in reply.

Kobra Kid grinned as the girl of his dreams broke away from him for a moment, her cheeks blushing pink. He lifted her up, his hands on her back and they shared a more passionate kiss.

Party Poison laughed, shaking his head. He opened the car door and looked to Bloodshot who was leaning against the bonnet of the new Killjoy mobile. "I have a feeling we're gunna have to visit here often,"

"Yeah," She said, smiling. "Just as well, the new arrivals would love some training from the infamous Party Poison himself,"

Poison shrugged, laughing.

"It's only a matter of time until Korse is back on the streets looking for blood." Bloodshot said with a sigh. "Or they'll fork out the cash and hire someone else to fill in for him."

"Guess you're right," Party Poison said as he slumped into the driver's seat. "There's always going to be more parties for the Killjoys to crash,"

Just then, Buckley appeared on the road before them, skating through the pouring rain. He held Grace's boom box in one hand and had a deviant little smile on his face. Fun Ghoul looked up and waved. "Got new batteries for that?"

_Ksch…_

"So there's a new deejay in town," Bloodshot said, standing upright and waiting with interest as Buckley approached.

"It's like I told them," Fun Ghoul smirked, walking up to Party Poison and patting him on the shoulder. "They can take us down, but there's always going to be more,"

"It must be time," Jet Star nodded, shooting Party Poison a look.

Poison put on his yellow mask and waited for Buckley's approach. In the confines of the little stereo box in Buckley's leather gloved hands rang out a tune from years ago; "Gimmie, Gimmie Shock Treatment" by the Ramones. It made Poison grin... if home is where the heart is, then he figured it might as well be in a packet Chevrolet, listening to classic punk rock. "Come on, Killjoys," He said. "Let's make some noise,"

Elsewhere, in the dark caverns of Better Living Incorporated, Korse ruminated about his life… or at least, he tried.

_Too bad for all those experiments…_

He was a hollow shell of a man now; a ghost of his former maniacal self. He sat in a broken posture against the wall, his head hung as his vacant eyes stared listlessly at the ground. A cockroach crossed the marble floors in front of him. Inside him, a voice tried to will his body to work and stomp the putrid insect out… but his body did not listen, it simply draped lifelessly as a skinned carcass would. Hundreds of wires spouted out from his body, linked to numerous machines that decked the walls of a dull gray room.

"What do the results say?" A man in a white coat asked, turning to his colleague who was similarly dressed. They peered at the silent Korse from behind a two way mirror in a bright lit white room.

The second scientist shuffled through some papers filled with numbers and shrugged. "Not a lot," He sighed. He lowered his files and looked at Korse the way he would've glanced upon a dying lab rat. "Maybe we should re-think the formula," He said and took out a bottle of Ritalin to stare at it. The white pills inside clacked around like beads as he inspected it. "We'd need a new test subject though…"

Korse watched in silence as the cockroach climbed up onto his foot and scaled his leg slowly. He tried to move again, but his limbs would not allow it… deep inside his prison of flesh, bone and blood, Korse screamed and clawed at the Ritalin enforced walls holding him back. The neon light above him flickered as his heart monitor showed an increase in activity though his brain charts stayed mellow. Inside, he battled with memories and images of a life filled with other peoples' misery. Darkly, he wished Party Poison had just killed him.

_He liked his odds in hell a lot better…_

"What do we do with this one?" The first scientist asked, cocking his head as he looked upon Korse with a serious, clinical expression void of any kind of sympathy.

"Oh, I dunno," The second scientist replied with a yawn as he tossed the bottle of pills into the trash can behind him. "These things have a way of working themselves out…"

THE END


	20. Chapter 20

1**THE AFTERMATH OF THE PARTY:**

**AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD**

If you've stayed along for the entire ride and are now here with me at the end, I thank you so much for your support of my writing. The reviews, suggestions and feedback you've given me have been much appreciated, and it's kept me believing in my abilities as a writer.

I cannot tell you how much fun I've had writing, and recently editing, this long winded journey into a rainbow hued abyss! It's been incredible, and of course I have the world's best band (fact!) To thank for their inspirational album :) Thank you to My Chemical Romance, even though they'll never read this. Thank you for your music that has given me hope even in the darkest of times. Thank you Gerard for this wonderful band of characters to work with... and I can only hope you don't hit me with a lawsuit. XD

It never ceases to amaze me how much you readers out there have stated your love of my O.C. characters. In fact, the fact that I had original characters made me wonder this 'novel' should ever see the light of day... I'm glad you've allowed them into your hearts! Bloodshot was so much fun to write, I'm considering writing her a one shot spin-off... I just don't feel like she's done with me yet!

So, all you crash queens and motor babies... here's a little request from me as the writer of this twisted tale; tell me what you think, and if you like this story enough, pass it along to someone else who you think might enjoy it! I'm always looking for artists to help me out with illustrations as well, so if any of you draw, please do get in touch with me!

Thank you once again and don't forget to keep running!


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